If the Roles Were Reversed
by your.kat
Summary: Quinn said, "You know, I would have tortured you if the roles were reversed." Rachel just replied, "I know." Well, now the roles are reversed. Let's see what happens...
1. Look What You've Done

_A/N: Remember in the first few episodes of Glee? The angsty Quinn Babygate drama and Rachel's first offer of friendship? "I would've tortured you if the roles were reversed, you know…" Quinn tells her. I personally feel that… Well, of course Quinn would torture her. Everyone writes stories about how Babygate changes Quinn into a more openly loving individual or how Rachel comforts and takes care of her during the pregnancy… And, voila, a relationship blossoms! While I love these stories, what if we switched the roles around? How would Quinn treat pregnant-Rachel? How does Quinn grow into a person capable of loving Rachel, the girl who supposedly tried to steal Finn away from Quinn, talks incessantly, and really is a spoiled diva? Can Quinn love Rachel? I think I'll try and find out…_

_If femme-slash isn't your thing, you should not bother reading further. _

_Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, Brittana would not be pushed aside. Needless to say, I do **not** own Glee.  
_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Rachel walked down the hall in a slight daze. The glazed over look in her eyes had become commonplace as of late.

She was so consumed in whatever thoughts had her so obviously pre-occupied that she never saw Karofsky coming. The ice-cold, blue slushy dripped from her eyelashes and her nose and her chin and down the front of her shirt.

The students in the hallway at the time burst into laughter – after all, seeing the losers of the school receiving a slushy facial never did get old.

Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce were all witness to Rachel's unfortunate circumstances. They laughed loudly along with the rest.

Santana and Brittany moved off down the hall, passing on either side of Rachel – Santana made a snide comment about how the color blue went great with her argyle while Brittany lightly patted Rachel on the head as they passed. They linked pinkies and turned the corner.

Quinn finally tore her gaze away from the clearly-humiliated form of Rachel Berry to her locker. While a smile still played at the corner of her lips, she realized that something was nagging at her mind…

When she realized what it was, she turned back to the location previously occupied by the little diva only to find that she had disappeared. She turned and saw that Rachel was already towards the end of the hallway, turning into a bathroom.

Quinn felt something strange stir in her chest as she realized that Rachel hadn't made a single move to wipe the offending slushy from her face; instead, the only move she had made was to protectively wrap her arms around her stomach…

* * *

Quinn decided not to try and decipher her thoughts; she had to get to glee practice.

When she arrived, it was clear that she had missed out on something. Everyone was leaning over the piano, hurriedly whispering to each other. Probably about the latest bit of gossip Mercedes and Kurt had managed to dig up. She noted that Rachel wasn't there yet – but it would be silly to think that the pint-size firecracker could've gotten to glee before Quinn; she had never been slushied, but she assumed that it would take _at least_ 20 minutes to be fully prepared for a public reappearance after such an ordeal.

Quinn pointedly ignored the crowded piano and instead sat down in a chair in the back row and took out her cell phone. As she was in the process of writing a text, Santana and Brittany came up and sat on either side of her.

"You're never going to guess what we just heard, Q," Santana said, a clearly shocked expression written across her features.

"Yeah, Q," Brittany said with a grin. "You'll totally never guess."

Quinn sighed. "Well then, don't make me guess. I really don't have the patience for that anyway. Spill."

"Ok well, Kurt just broke the news to all of us – and he heard it from Mercedes who heard it from her older brother who goes to school at Carmel who heard it from his best friend who is in Vocal Adrenaline that their male lead, Jesse St. James, has managed to impregnate a student here at McKinley," Santana said in one fantastic breath.

Quinn's eyebrow was raised dangerously high as she said, "S, I told you not to make me guess…"

Brittany leaned forward at this point and whispered in a conspiratorial fashion, "Q, it's _Rachel_."

What happened next vaguely resembled one of those cliché, slow-motion scenes in Quinn's mind – everything really did seem to slow down as she processed what Santana and Brittany had just told her. Not only was someone at their school pregnant at the tender age of barely-16, but that person was _Rachel Berry_.

Lively, loud Rachel Berry.

Rachel Berry who was constantly bossing the glee club members around.

Rachel Berry who Quinn's boyfriend, Finn, had admitted to kissing a couple of months ago (resulting in their subsequently _very _rocky relationship).

Rachel Berry – Jewish, two gay dads, and so much talent leaking out of every pore of her body that Quinn _knew_ she would never be a Lima Loser.

At least, that was before…

Quinn would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn't noticed a change in Rachel's behavior. It became particularly apparent when April Rhodes abandoned New Directions during their Invitational intermission. Berry had stepped in and, quite literally, saved the day. But she had been so subdued about it… Quietly insisting that she was simply doing it for her "friends."

Some friends they were, talking about Rachel behind her back, spreading rumors about a pregnancy that they had no real proof of, and generally being fairly horrible friends to the girl who continued to take daily slushy showers in the hallways and received constant verbal abuse from the jocks and cheerleaders – something Quinn had actively participated in and even encouraged in the past.

And then Quinn realized with a swift mental kick to the butt that she paid a _lot_ more attention to Rachel Berry than she probably should.

"Speak of the devil…" Santana muttered under her breath as, quite literally, every head in the choir room turned and pierced Rachel with their gazes.

Rachel's head was down as she entered the room; one glance at her, and it was apparent that she was, yet again, deep in thought. She sat down in a chair on the far side of the front row and pulled a notebook out of her bag. She flipped the notebook open, seemed to find the page she was looking for, and then set to vigorously writing something.

Before Quinn and Santana could stop her, Brittany was up and skipping over to Rachel's side of the room. The entire glee club was looking on in horrified anticipation as Brittany gracefully took a seat right next to Rachel.

"Hi Rachel," she sweetly said to the other girl.

Rachel looked up then, slightly startled before returning the greeting. "Good afternoon, Brittany. How are you?" Her voice was soft. Quinn thought that it seemed much softer than, perhaps, a few weeks previous.

"I'm good, Rachel," Brittany said with a bright smile. "How are you? Have you started picking out names yet? I have so many great names picked out for babies. My cat helps me keep a list of them. I could show it to you if you want."

* * *

Rachel's head snaps up to Brittany's face faster than Quinn thought possible. New Directions' members continued to stare at the scene unfolding before them with morbid fascination as realization dawned on Rachel's face. She caught the eyes of everyone in the room, one-by-one, then quickly returned her attention to Brittany.

Quinn noted with a bit of jealously that Rachel composed herself incredibly well.

"No, Brittany. I haven't thought of any names yet. I really haven't given myself much time to think about the details at all." Gasps were heard all around as the rumors were confirmed, straight from the source. Mercedes, Kurt, and Santana had their cell phones out in a flash. The whole school would know within minutes.

Brittany just smiled and said, "Well, I like naming stuff. Just let me know if you need any help." She got up, patted Rachel lightly on the head again, and returned to sit next to Santana. "San, Rachel's gonna let me help her name her baby," she whispered excitedly in Santana's ear.

"Gosh, Berry – I think the pool of names should be quite easy to choose from. There's always 'RuPaul, Jr' or 'Elmo.' My personal choice though would be 'Midget Spawn.' I like it. It's descriptive." Rachel pointedly ignored her and continued scribbling away in her notebook.

Quinn pictured Rachel, months from now, cradling a little baby in her arms…

"I guess you didn't follow our advice and get _sterilized_, did you, Berry? I guess it's too late now," Quinn snapped, sneering across the room, refusing to admit to herself what she really thought of her mental picture – Rachel, holding a beautiful little baby with soft brown hair and dark brown eyes hidden behind sleepy eyelids; Rachel, looking down at the little bundle of life that she had nurtured for 9 months… Rachel, turning to look into Quinn's eyes and saying with sheer reverence, _"Quinn, look what I made…"_

The rest of the glee club had been watching the scene play out with rapt attention, but they were quickly broken out of their trance when Mr. Schuester waltzed into the room, grabbing everyone's attention by clapping his hands together and excitedly proclaiming, "Ok guys, I've got this week's assignment for you!" As he turned to face everyone full on, he noticed the tension in the room.

"Guys? What's going on?" He surveyed the faces of individuals before stopping on Rachel. Her shoulders were uncharacteristically slumped, and her mouth was slightly opened as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. As everyone watched, a single tear fell from the corner of her eye onto her open notebook. "Rachel?" Schue questioned quietly. "Is everything ok?"

Her head snapped up, and she quickly and subtly wiped the residual wetness from her cheek before giving the teacher a forced half-smile. "Well. Yeah. Mr. Schue, everything's fine. I just… I just haven't been feeling well. I think I'll, umm… I'm going to go call one of my dads to come pick me up. I'm sorry, I'll get this week's assignment from you tomorrow in Spanish class if that's ok?" Regardless of his answer, she was obviously going to leave – she closed her notebook and stuck it in her bag, headed for the door.

"Uhh sure, Rachel. I hope you get to feeling better. We'll see you tomorrow," he waved slightly as the door closed behind her.

As Rachel left, Quinn's stomach sunk to her feet. She was disgusted with herself. The hurtful comments she said had obviously hit Rachel hard. Quinn knew she couldn't take them back though. Maybe she wouldn't, even if she could. She was Head Cheerleader, wasn't she? Wasn't it her job to uphold a certain image? If people didn't fear her, if people didn't whisper, _"Oh yeah, that's the HBIC, don't get in her way," _every time she strutted past with her ponytail bobbing, wasn't she doing something wrong?

"Ok guys," he clapped his hands together yet again, blissfully ignoring the still-shocked faces of his students. "Let's get started!" 


	2. This Ruined Puzzle

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**Chapter 2: This Ruined Puzzle**

I closed the choir room door softly behind me. It wasn't a storm out, after all. I just… I need some space.

I lean up against the wall, just outside of the choir room door. I can already hear the sounds of laughter and general merriment. For once, I don't mind – maybe they've already forgotten about me.

Even as this thought crosses my mind, the door opens. To my surprise, Tina Cohen-Chang walks out. She closes the door behind her and makes her way into the hallway. I don't say anything, but she sees me just as her body is level with mine.

"Rachel," she says.

"Hi Tina." It's really all I can say. I was surprised she came out of the room, but that didn't mean she wanted anything to do with me. She could just need to go to her locker for all I know.

"R-Rachel I… I j-just wanted to know that you're ok. Those g-girls said some pretty mean things but… I don't know, I can only imagine that this must b-b-be really hard right now."

I think my jaw literally just dropped open in shock. Tina and I have known each other for a long time. In fact, we were what I would consider relatively good friends back in elementary and middle school. We took dance together for years.

"Thanks for your concern Tina. I can't say that I'm ok right now for certain. I'm just going to go home and prepare myself for whatever may come tomorrow when I have to face the entire student body," I sigh softly at this point. "It should be a new adventure…"

She graces me with a look full of pity. It kind of makes me sick – that someone thinks I need _that much_ pity – and it kind of makes me happy – that someone is willing to spare me that much thought.

"I j-j-just want you to k-know, Rachel, that you can c-count on me. I'll try to b-b-be there for you. You shouldn't have to g-go through this alone." She reaches out and pulls me into a very gentle hug, her arms wrapping easily around my shoulders. I return the hug just as softly, gingerly wrapping my arms around her waist – I'm almost unaware of what to do in this situation. And that thought makes me sad.

"Thank you, Tina. You're a good friend." We stop hugging and she steps back, putting herself a bit closer to the choir room. "Have a good rehearsal." She smiles and waves goodbye, and I turn to walk down the hallway. As she puts her hand on the doorknob I turn back to her.

"And Tina?" She looks up at me. "You're a phenomenal singer and a great actress. But you're not fooling me with the stutter. I hope you gain the confidence soon to do away with it. Your voice really is beautiful."

At first, she appears to be caught off guard, her mouth forming a small "oh," then she just takes a deep breath, smiles at me brightly, and goes back into the choir room.

* * *

The hallways are empty, and I slowly make my way to my car. My dads bought it for me two months ago for my 16th birthday. I wonder how they will react to this news… I can only imagine that they would take it better than Brittany or Santana's parents. In fact, I shudder to imagine what would happen to _Quinn Fabray_ if she were to get pregnant in high school. I've met her father before, in middle school. He put the fear of God into me even then, and I'm not particularly religious in the first place…

Somehow, I feel that I will still have a roof over my head, even after I've broken the news to my dads. While I most certainly can't speculate what the results will be, I feel confident that the scenarios I've written down in my notebook cover all truly possible reactions from my dads, and I don't see them kicking me out.

I hope I'm right.

I unlock my car as I approach it and slide inside, placing my backpack in the passenger seat. I reach to start the engine, but a sudden weight seems to be pressing down on me from all sides. I feel like I'm going to suffocate if I can't escape it soon. It's getting hard to breathe.

I force myself to take three very deep breaths. _Come on, Rachel. Get it together._

I guess I hadn't realized that I was crying profusely, tears already running down my cheeks.

Suddenly, my stomach begins to heave. I quickly open the door and manage to empty the contents of my stomach on the pavement of the parking lot. Just, ugh. The taste is disgusting to me. I remember being sick as a child…

"_But Daddy… I just feel so, so sick. My stomach hurts something awful. I think I'm __**dying**__," a little Rachel Berry sobbed as she held the hand of one of her dads. The dark skin of his hand gently pushed back her bangs._

"_Rachel, sweetheart, you have no idea how much better you will feel if you let yourself throw up. Even just once, you'll feel loads better." Rachel squeezed her eyes shut tightly when he said this._

"_Daddy, don't say those words." Young Rachel Berry clearly had the same penchant for dramatics as the 16-year old version of herself. "It makes me almost do it just thinking it." She simply proceeded to curl up into a tight fetal position, refusing to get out of bed and do the unmentionable act of cleansing out whatever toxins were in her stomach making her sick._

_Adam, her 'Daddy,' sighed and rubbed her back gently. "Ok, baby girl. I'm going to run to the store and bye some 7-Up. I'll have your dad come up and check on you in a few minutes." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Feel better soon. We have tickets to __The Lion King__ in a couple days, remember?" _

_He received a small smile in response. He got up and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Rachel's forehead smoothed out, and she quickly fell asleep._

* * *

Sitting in her car, Rachel sighed. A child? Though the traditionally rebellious teenager aspect of Rachel's personality wanted to assert her independence and inherent 'adultness,' Rachel knew that she really was still just that: a child. How could she raise a baby?

As soon as she started down that line of thought, she chose to steer her mind away from it. She had a few more months to work things out. It wasn't particularly in her nature to put off for tomorrow what she could accomplish today, but she wasn't sure if her fragile emotions could handle it currently. So she shut it down.

_A fine mess_, she thought with the slightest hint of bitterness. She had to think of something, anything, that would put her back into a semblance of a positive mood. She put her car into reverse and slowly backed out of her parking spot. As she left school grounds, she thought back to that night approximately eight and a half weeks previous, and before the flashback began, she realized that this most **definitely** would not be putting her into a good mood…

* * *

_The lights were very dim. The music was loud. Rachel didn't recognize anyone at the party. Her friends who had invited her – girls she shared ballet class with and who were students at Carmel High School – had quickly found people they knew. Rachel was briefly introduced, but soon realized that she was the literal fifth wheel and separated herself from the group._

_It didn't take her long to find the kitchen, though she had to push through several dozen bodies to get to it. She really would've just settled for water, but apparently water was a scarce commodity in that household. [Tap water simply wouldn't be acceptable.] So Rachel filled a cup with whatever beer was flowing freely from the nearest keg. She took a sip and immediately hated the taste. But it was really her only option._

"_Well, who do we have here," a loud, obnoxious voice sounded from behind her. She turned to face whoever was clearly talking about her. She was probably the only unfamiliar face to most of these people. "Hello, gorgeous. My name is Marcus, and I do not believe we have had the good fortune of meeting yet." _

_Rachel couldn't help but laugh a little bit at the guy; he was, if nothing else, confident. Or maybe he had imbibed a bit too much alcohol already. Regardless, Rachel wasn't going to be rude. She was getting the slightest feeling of being in the Lion's Den, and it was not comfortable. She needed to loosen up a little._

"_Hello," she held her hand out to him. "My name is Rachel Berry."_

_He took her hand dramatically, knelt down onto one knee, and lightly kissed her fingers. "Rachel Berry!" he all but shouted. "Welcome! I hope you enjoy your stay at this __**excellent**__ – if I do say so myself – party at the house of __**yours truly**__." He cockily winked at her. "Say, doll, we're getting ready to start a game of beer pong. Interested?"_

_Rachel chuckled nervously. "Well, I won't lie – I've never partaken in a game of 'beer pong' before, but I am very competitive by nature." She paused for a second. "Sure, I'd love to play."_

_Three rounds of beer pong later, and Rachel had lost a total of … Well, three rounds. The team she and Marcus were playing against consisted of some guy named Garrett (fairly small, blonde hair, pretty blue eyes) and another guy named Jesse. But Rachel knew Jesse. At least, she knew __**of**__ him. Male lead of Vocal Adrenaline, the kid was a legend in show choir circles across the Midwest. He had curly brown hair and bone structure to __**die for**__. He had a great build, and Rachel found herself immediately attracted to his talent – Err… To him. To his looks, of course…_

_Simply put, after three rounds of losing at beer pong – and considering the fact that Rachel Berry had __**never**__ consumed a drop of alcohol in her life before that night – the girl was __**smashed**__._

_Most of the night was a blur. She remembered losing spectacularly at beer pong. More loud music. She was dancing with someone. One of her girlfriends first, but soon Jesse was standing in front of her instead. She remembers barely being able to stand, let alone dance. Things are sketchy, choppy – she doesn't remember leaving the living room. But she obviously did._

_The next thing she remembers – and she remembers it with __**stunning**__ clarity – was waking up in a stranger's bed. She could still hear the faint pounding of the bass through the floorboards and the closed door. She sat up slowly, clutching her pounding head as she did so. Once she was sitting upright, she realized that the sheets had slipped off of her upper body. She was naked._

_This alone was enough to ignite a small panic attack. __**What had she done?**_

_She quickly looked over and saw the naked back and curly brown hair of none other than Jesse St. James. _

_In a panic, she lifted the sheets up and had to clasp both of her hands over her mouth to stop from screaming out loud. Jesse was __**clearly**__ naked. And so was she._

_Her center, the most private part of her – a part that __**no one**__ had ever before felt or touched or seen – was throbbing slightly. And she knew what that feeling meant._

_She knew what she had lost._

'_**So much for waiting until you're 25, Rachel,**__' she mentally berated herself before climbing out of the bed and searching for her clothes._

_She made it back down to the party and out to her car as inconspicuously as possible. The couple hours she had slept had been enough to clear her head, and she drove home (though she did so far, far slower than she normally would have)._

_She quietly snuck up to her room – completely unnecessary since her dads were away for the night at a business dinner out of town – and changed into her pajamas._

_As the room entered into total darkness and Rachel curled up into that familiar fetal position under her covers, she sobbed._

* * *

_Well_, Rachel thought as she pulled into her driveway at home. _At least this is going to be one __**incredibly**__ talented child._


	3. Into the Dark

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**Chapter 3: Into the Dark**

Rachel slowly made her way up the sidewalk to her front door. The weather was changing. She could feel the cool breeze on her exposed skin, light drops of rain were barely noticeable but spoke of a coming storm. She looked up and noticed that the sky was dark, ominous. A slight shiver ran through her from head to toe, and she proceeded into the warmth of her home.

She lightly placed her keys in the dish that resided on the table in the hallway. Next, she shed her jacket and hung it on the coat rack behind the door. The lights were all off in the house – "Wasting energy while no one is home is absolutely _ridiculous_! I demand that every light in the house be off before the last person leaves for the day," Rachel had proclaimed one day after watching An Inconvenient Truth – which was a sure sign that Rachel was alone.

Her first stop was the kitchen. She took a few minutes and made herself a bowl of cereal before carefully carrying it into the living room. As she ate, she flipped through channels. No good movies were on Starz. Nothing worthwhile on HBO. Disney Channel yielded unfortunate results. The Discovery and Learning Channels were each disappointments. Rachel kept flipping up in the channels and came to MTV. "16 and Pregnant" glared harshly at her from the large, flat screen television.

Oh, the irony.

But she was transfixed. There really was no looking away. The drama, the craziness, the circumstances… Rachel was _not_ looking forward to school the next day.

She realized that her life would be changing – hard and fast.

It was only a few months previous that she had been singing scales in the auditorium with Finn, attempting to carry out her plan that she was just so _sure_ would come to fruition… Thinking back on that kiss they had shared, Rachel realized that – maybe, just maybe – she had been too rash. Was kissing Finn really the way to get what she wanted? She realized the backwardness of her rationale and sighed.

Unfortunately, _no one_ would ever want her now. She was a pregnant 16-year old carrying the baby of a faceless star from a rival school. No one wanted her before she was pregnant, anyway. There was no reason that things would change.

The dark living room, the glow of the television, the warmth of the blanket that she had draped over herself, and the cereal sitting contently in her stomach soon induced severe drowsiness. At least when she slept, her mind could be at peace. So she welcomed the warm embrace of sleep and let the darkness at the edge of her vision take over.

* * *

Before long, the sounds of her dads returning from work woke her. She drowsily sat up and folded her blanket. She carried her dirty dish into the kitchen and placed it in the sink before going out into the hallway and greeting her dads as they parted with their coats and scarves and keys.

"Hi Dad, Daddy," she quietly said, a small smile on her face. She really did love her dads.

"Hi pumpkin," her Dad, Brendon, replied, stepping forward to lightly kiss Rachel on the forehead. He was a relatively short man – since Rachel herself was notably short, this was clearly her father with whom she shared genes – with stylish black glasses, a friendly face, and twinkling hazel eyes that held in their depths the wisdom that Rachel had relied on heavily throughout the years. He passed Rachel and moved into the kitchen, probably to sieve through their handy take-out menu collection for suitable dinner choices.

"Hello sweetheart," her Daddy, Marcus, stepped up to Rachel and wrapped his arms around her. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck, and he suddenly lifted her into the air and spun her around a few times. He was easily the larger man as far as physical stature went. Rachel always thought that his dark, chocolate skin looked stunning against her Dad's when they would hold hands or walk arm-in-arm somewhere. He also had a very friendly countenance about him, but Rachel knew that there was a ferocity within him that could strike fear into people. One year on Black Friday, Rachel had literally almost begun to cry as the last SingStar game was taken right from under her nose by a rather intimidating woman at Best Buy. Unfortunately for that lady, Marcus's instincts kicked in, and all he had to do was bring himself up to his full height and curl his lip slightly, baring his teeth – and that was all it took, really. And Rachel was ecstatic because, well, it worked. She may have Brendon's looks, but her personality quirks are equally inherited from each of her dads.

She laughed as he sat her back down on the ground.

"What would you like for dinner? I had an intense day at the hospital, and I feel like I could eat an entire animal of some sort. Starving!" Marcus exclaimed, dramatically throwing his hands into the air.

Rachel giggled a little in her hands before suddenly getting serious. "I really don't have a preference tonight. Just make sure there are pickles." At this, she turned and followed Brendon into the kitchen to peruse the menus, leaving Marcus to scratch his head in wonderment.

"But you hate pickles…" He mumbled under his breath before snapping out of his thoughtful state and following his family into the kitchen as well.

* * *

One delicious take-out meal later, and the three Berry's were sitting around the dining room table talking about their respective days. Brendon amused his husband and daughter for the majority of the conversation as he recounted an irate customer at the pharmacy that day.

"And then he ran out the doors shouting, 'See if I ever tell you about my Levitra mishaps ever again, you good-for-nothing pill-pusher!' It was quite fantastic. All of the ladies were seriously impressed."

Marcus leaned over and placed a loving kiss on Brendon's cheek. As he pulled away, he continued to chuckle softly under his breath. Rachel had remained unusually subdued throughout this latest Pharmacy Tale of Horror, and her dads noticed.

"Rachel," Brendon questioned. "Is everything alright?"

Rachel had been asking herself this question for days now. For the past few hours, the answer had been a resounding **NO!** She most certainly was _not_ ok. She was pregnant. She didn't even remember partaking in the act that had resulted in said pregnancy, for goodness' sake. Her baby daddy was a showboating stage whore who would be graduating high school in a matter of months and had a scholarship to UCLA – he would be gone, and Rachel would be alone. With a baby. Maybe.

But then she looked up into the loving eyes of her fathers and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was definitely not going to be alone – no matter what decisions she made regarding the baby, no matter what hardships she faced during the nine months in which the small child growing inside of her would be her number one priority. She knew it was all going to be ok.

Rachel Berry was a great Maker of Speeches. When her family visited for her middle school graduation, Rachel seated them all around the living room and delivered a 30 minute speech that covered topics as broad as the educational system, vegetarian lifestyle choices, and Broadway classics. Just last year, her dads had renewed their vows, and Rachel was the first to give a toast – about a dozen people had planned on speaking, but Rachel's speech went on so long that she became the _only_ speaker. She had speeches planned for High School Graduation, New Directions' first win at Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals (as well as New Directions' _second and third_ wins at each level of competition), as well as her acceptance into various colleges (Julliard, Roosevelt, etc). And of course, she had her speeches already written for her first Emmy, Oscar, Grammy, and Golden Globe awards, respectively.

So when Rachel opened her mouth and said the words, "I'm pregnant," it's almost unnecessary to follow it with: 'and everyone at the table was completely and utterly _shocked_ that Rachel had managed to convey the gravity of the situation in only two words.'

It's possible that time stood still for a second. Rachel glanced from her Dad to her Daddy and back again, and then looked at her watch to confirm that, yes, time was indeed _not_ at a standstill.

"Dad? Daddy? … Say something?"

Marcus reached over and grasped one of Rachel's hands with both of his own. "Rachel, sweetheart, what is the young man's name?" Rachel knew that tone. Naturally, Brendon did as well.

"Now honey, think about this before you go do something silly –" He tried to placate his husband but was cut off with a swift look from Marcus.

"Something… silly? Oh no, it won't be 'silly' – it will be quite the opposite. Now," he turned back to Rachel. "What's his name, dear?"

"Jesse St. James. He's the male lead of Carmel High's glee club, Vocal Adrenaline. Daddy, before you do anything crazy, I just want you to know… I want you to know that it was a mistake. I went with Beth and Amy from dance class. I just… I ended up drinking. And one thing lead to another. I …" She sniffled and began crying quietly. "I don't even remember it. I just remember waking up a few hours later. And I left."

"St. James. Thank you, darling," Marcus said while standing up quickly and going to retrieve his coat from the rack behind the door. He came back into the kitchen and knelt down in front of Rachel, taking both of her hands in his this time and forcing her to look into his eyes. "Rachel, you are our darling baby girl. I understand how difficult it must have been for you to tell us this. Know that I am not mad at you, and your Dad and I will be with you no matter what." At this he looked lovingly over at Brendon who just smiled in response, silently nodding his head and scooting around to wrap an arm around Rachel's shoulders. Marcus stood up then, saying, "I'll be back later! Don't wait up on me, ladies. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." He kissed Rachel on the cheek and Brendon on the lips before striking a very masculine pose, fetching his keys, and exiting the house.

Brendon squeezed Rachel's shoulders. "Well, I guess he gets Hero Points in this situation, doesn't he? Are you disappointed that I didn't storm out with him to go avenge your honor, pumpkin?"

Rachel laughed ever so sweetly through her tears. "Oh Dad, you're both so incredible. _Of course_ you get Hero Points as well. And I'm not disappointed at all. Now we can go watch Funny Girl and Daddy won't have to complain about watching it for the one hundred and twenty-second time!"

Brendon just kissed Rachel tenderly on the forehead before beginning to clean up the dishes. Once the kitchen was in order, they went into the living room to start the film.

* * *

, Rachel found herself to be incredibly tired. She kissed her Dad goodnight (her Daddy still wasn't home yet, to her chagrin) and made her way upstairs. She washed her face. She finished a bit of homework that she hadn't completed during study hall. She brushed her teeth. She picked out an outfit to wear for the next day at school. And then she picked out a second outfit in anticipation of a slushy attack. She finally crawled into bed, utterly exhausted.

Despite her exhaustion, she felt a sense of happiness. She knew things would be difficult at school, but surely with the strong support system she had at home, everything would be ok… Right? She could only hope that it would be enough to keep her going.

With this last thought floating through her head and the soft sounds of Coltrane playing through her iHome, Rachel drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Rachel found herself walking through the halls of McKinley. She felt embarrassed, but she couldn't understand why. Then she realized that she was stark naked. She instantly tried covering all of her lady parts at once, but then the jeering started._

_It had previously been almost eerily quiet – the calm before the storm. Then some random girl's voice had called out to her, "Hey Man Hands. Did you forget something this morning?" Her friends laughed loudly, viciously, and high-fived her for her cleverness._

_The insults continued, "Treasure Trail" (though, Rachel thought, she __**obviously**__ didn't have one), "Preggers," "Tubbers," etc. etc. And the hateful words were followed by ice-cold slushy after ice-cold slushy. They were throwing them over every inch of her exposed flesh mercilessly. As they started throwing other things at her – notebooks, erasers, wadded up paper, gym bags – Rachel abandoned any pretense of modesty, dropping her hand from her chest to protect the fragile bump that had only just recently begun to make its presence known._

_She had to protect it._

_Suddenly, Karofsky was standing in front of her, staring down at Rachel with a sickness in his eyes that caused tears to immediately spring forth and make their way down her slushy-covered cheeks, mixing with the blueberry and cherry mixture on her skin. He growled at her. He literally growled. And then he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back, slamming her into the nearest lockers. She cried out at the impact, her head spinning slightly._

_Karofsky leaned down and spoke, loudly and clearly enough that every single person in Rachel's dream was able to hear, "So Berry, I hear you like it rough? Well, get ready for this. Because I'm a __**real**__ man, and I'm going to show you how real men like to __**fuck**__." Everyone in the hall laughed. They laughed, and Rachel's body shook with fear. She continued to cradle her stomach, her unborn child._

_Karofsky started to unzip his pants. Rachel looked just past David. Quinn Fabray stood directly across the hall, and she was staring into Rachel's eyes. She wasn't smiling or laughing along with the rest of the student body as Karofsky prepared to do unmentionable things to Rachel's body, but she wasn't doing much else either._

_Quinn just stood there, looking into Rachel's eyes._

* * *

Rachel awoke abruptly. She didn't move, she almost didn't breathe. It was her worst nightmare. And Rachel was disgusted with herself. Not for having the nightmare, but for the fact that the nightmare itself was _not_ Karofsky's intended rape – it was the fact that Quinn Fabray stood by and did nothing.


	4. Connect the Dots

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn sat straight up in bed, a choked sob escaping her throat. Her mind was confused. Her thoughts, a jumbled mess. What had she just seen?

What had she just _done_?

She reached her hands out and felt the soft feathery down of her comforter, the silkiness of her sheets, her bedside table where her alarm clock was currently glaring "3:41AM" at her. And despite all of these reassurances, Quinn still felt sick to her stomach – as if she absolutely _had_ to confirm that what she had just witnessed did not take place.

She sat up in bed, clutching her sheets around her. Sleep was not going to be returning anytime soon. Her dream had been too vivid. It had left her gasping for air, even now. Quinn realized that she had been crying when the sheets she had clenched in her hands were soaked through with her tears.

"Get it together, Fabray," she hissed out between her clenched teeth. And yet the tears still flowed.

The mental picture of Karofsky throwing Rachel up against some lockers was still dramatically playing over and over again in her mind. Rachel was yelling, screaming for someone to help her. All up and down the hallway, students were laughing and pointing and it made Quinn absolutely want to punch every last one of them in the face. She had felt physically ill as she watched Rachel struggle futilely. Rachel had even caught her eye – she had stared Quinn straight in the face and whispered softly, "Please, Quinn, _help me_," and Quinn had heard the words as if they were spoken directly against the shell of her ear.

And she had been paralyzed.

She wasn't sure if she had even been able to _blink_, let alone look away or, more importantly, _help Rachel_. She simply could not move a muscle in her body. Her Dream Self was a complete idiot, apparently – unable to rescue a damsel in distress when she so clearly needed _someone_.

Not that Rachel was ordinarily what one would consider a "damsel in distress," but still… She had been in trouble, and she had watched helplessly as Quinn stood and did nothing.

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head to clear her mind of the brutal images her mind had forced her to witness. She had to snap out of it. She had an image, she had a set of standards that were imposed on her – and she _would_ uphold those standards. What kind of Head Cheerio would she be if she let a _dream_ affect her like this and people, God forbid, _knew about it_? No, she had to push this aside.

Though she could easily reiterate to herself time and time again that she had to let it go, she wasn't sure that she could. Instead, she got up and went to the bathroom, taking a shower and preparing herself for early morning Cheerios' practice – Coach Sylvester was mandating at least three 5:00am practices every week until their next Nationals trophy was securely in her grasp. When she was ready to leave her house, it was only 4:37am. She still had plenty of time and could afford to leave a few minutes later, but just standing in her bedroom was enough to almost induce panic.

* * *

When she arrived at the school, the bright lights of the stadium were lit. _This_, Quinn grumpily thought, _should be a sign to Coach Sylvester that this is just a little too early for a morning practice_

…

Quinn grabbed her gym bag and went directly to the stadium. She was already dressed in her Cheerios uniform that she used for practices, good to go.

She threw her bag down next to one of the benches near the field and then made her way to the top of the bleachers. She pulled out her phone, not really sure what she was going to do with it. As if of their own volition, her fingers led to her contact list and scrolled down until the screen flashed with the name STUBBLES standing out in large, block letters. Quinn let out a shaky breath.

In just a few quick punches, Quinn had copied Rachel's number and entered it with the handy *67 digits in front of it – she would never know who was calling her at such an ungodly hour. It was full proof. Quinn could get the reassurance she needed that Rachel was ok – she was probably just sleeping in her bed, safely at home, untouched and unharmed.

Quinn hit the call button.

The line rang once, twice, thrice, and a final time before Rachel's voicemail answered. In a slight panic now, Quinn cancelled the call. _She was probably just sleeping and didn't get to the phone in time_, Quinn tried to convince herself. Surely that was it though, right? She just hadn't heard the ringtone of her phone. Maybe it was on silent to preserve her beauty sleep – and, for heaven's sake, the girl was _pregnant_ and needed as much rest as she could possibly get.

Regardless, she pushed the call button again.

It rang once, twice, thr – and then a small, tired-sounding voice answered saying, "Hello?" Quinn literally sighed as relief coursed through her entire body. She bit her lip to restrain the sound of the air leaving her lips so Rachel wouldn't hear. "Hello? Is… Is someone there?" Quinn's eyes fluttered closed and unbidden and unwanted tears leaked from beneath her eyelids. "Well, maybe you have the wrong number, I'm sorry," and Quinn was certain that Rachel was about to hang up. Which was just fine with her.

But then Coach Sylvester spoke through the stadium's field system – which she used during their practices in order to inspire terror in the more impressionable Cheerios.

"You think getting to practice at five in the morning is hard? Try sitting through an elementary school production of HAIR! Now THAT'S hard! NOW GIVE ME 5 LAPS!"

Quinn couldn't end the call fast enough. She was sure Rachel had heard _something_, and wasn't that _something_ going to be enough to inform Rachel that the mystery person blowing her phone up at five in the morning was a Cheerio? Quinn may make jokes about Rachel's intelligence, but she knew that the girl was rather sharp. Except in calculus – Berry was seriously bad at math.

Quinn quickly ran down the bleachers, valiantly trying to ignore the fact that she had, yet again, reinforced the notion in her head that she knew _far, far_ too much about Rachel Berry.

* * *

It was 8:00am sharp when Rachel walked through the doors of McKinley. When she started walking down the hallway to her locker, her head was held high. She passed several people standing around chatting amicably, going mostly unnoticed. But then the whispering started.

Rachel Berry was used to being talked about. She was often called names. She suffered through slushy after slushy since entering high school. But this whispering that seemed to be following her everywhere, this was new. This was something different.

Her head sank lower and lower until her chin was almost resting flush against her chest. Regardless, when some dumb jock ran into her, knocking all of her books out of her arms, she couldn't help but think that he could have at least been paying the _slightest_ bit of attention so as not to cause her potential bodily harm.

She bent down to retrieve her books before they were all trampled by the students who had started heading to class. Another hand came into her view, and Rachel's head snapped up to stare into the face of none other than Tina.

Rachel gave the other girl a small smile, trying to convince herself that she wasn't genuinely surprised that her conversation with Tina the previous day hadn't been a total farce. Tina smiled back. The two girls shared their first class of the day together, so they walked – shoulder to shoulder – towards history.

* * *

Just a few feet away, Quinn Fabray stood watching the exchange between Rachel and Tina. _At least someone is there for her_, Quinn thought. She turned back to her locker where she had sat her phone. She quickly picked it up and scrolled through her contacts to the one listed as STUBBLES. She deleted the letters and instead wrote "Rachel Berry."

* * *

The end of the day came very slowly for Rachel. Around every corner throughout the day, she had been expecting a face full of slushy. In every classroom, the whispering continued. _Hold your head high_, she kept telling yourself. _It's great practice for when you're a star and everyone is talking about your personal life. You need to get used to this now, it will make things easier in the future._ But no matter what she told herself, she couldn't keep her head held quite as high as it normally was. She often found herself placing a hand gently over the bump that was forming already – a bump that, unless you were looking for it and were (intimately) familiar with Rachel's body, you never would have found it yourself. It gave her a sense of purpose, a strength that she was glad to have found.

After school, glee rehearsal was a welcome diversion for Rachel. She really had missed singing with everyone the day before. Of all of her extracurricular activities, it was easy to see that glee was Rachel's favorite. So when she entered the choir room and Mr. Schuester greeted her warmly and immediately handed Rachel new sheet music – in which she was featured heavily – one of the first true smiles she had shown in days manifested itself on her face.

"Great song choice, Mr. Schue. This is a fantastic ballad, and it suits my voice very well."

"I'm glad you think so, Rachel," Mr. Schue replied. "It's going to be a duet with Finn."

At this, Rachel looked slightly dubious – but she recovered quickly. "Great," she smiled.

_Not so great_, she thought in her head. It had been a while since she had attempted any flirtations with Finn, and she had – to a great extent – managed to avoid singing with him or interacting with him in any way since then. And now she was being thrown into a very emotional song with him as her partner. _Fantastic_.

All of the other glee kids filtered in, taking their places on the risers and looking over the sheet music.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Mr. Schue happily announced after everyone seemed relatively comfortable with the arrangement. Rachel stepped forward with Finn close behind. Rachel didn't miss the glare Quinn sent her way as Finn stepped closer to Rachel – perhaps a bit _too_ close. Rachel realized that it most definitely was too close for Quinn's liking, but what Quinn didn't realize was that it was also too close for Rachel's liking.

They began to sing the song, and Finn was clearly taking the choreography into his own hands – something that Rachel felt like telling him he should _never_ attempt in the future.

Finn was grabbing Rachel's hands, pulling her close to him, touching her face – and Rachel pulled away, over and over again. Mr. Schue actually seemed quite pleased with the whole "act." Apparently it all appeared theatrical and was therefore acceptable.

Rachel caught Quinn's eyes once, and the sadness shining within them was enough to cause Rachel _not_ to catch her glance again throughout the performance.

* * *

After glee practice, Rachel made her way to her locker. She had to get her things together for a history project that was due soon…

As Rachel went to close it, someone found it necessary to slam it shut for her instead. She was faced with the menacing stare of Quinn Fabray – Quinn Fabray in HBIC Mode.

"Listen up, Rachel, and listen closely. You and I, we're about to have a smackdown. You are having _someone else's_ _baby_. Back off of Finn. I'm asking you as nice as I possibly can – Leave. Him. Alone. Whether you have feelings for him or you just _seriously_ want to bring about my fury, you need to stop. It's not ok, Rachel. You kissed him." Her gaze faltered from Rachel's momentarily. "It's not ok." Quinn's façade seemed to fade away at the end, and Rachel obviously noticed. She noticed, and she was simultaneously frightened that Quinn knew about the kiss.

"You're right," she replied with the tiniest bit of fear in her voice. "I've had romantic ulterior motives in my pursuit of Finn." _If only you knew my real motivations_, she added mentally. "But I haven't even tried to seek him out, outside of glee, in months. You know about the kiss… And for that, I'm sincerely sorry. I would try to explain, but I'm afraid that there will never be words enough for that." She stopped and sighed heavily, her eyes downcast. "I'm glad –" her voice cracked with emotion, and she looked up into Quinn's eyes again. "I'm glad that you can look past our indiscretions. You deserve... You should both be happy." Quinn noted the tears glistening in Rachel's eyes, and a serious wave of confusion washed over her. "Again, I'm sorry for my past actions. Have a good evening, Quinn."

Rachel walked away from Quinn and towards the parking lot. A small smile graced her features and her only thought was_** "She called me Rachel**_**…" **


	5. Humble Me

_A/N: I really am awful at writing dialogue. Sorry about that._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

As Rachel made her way to her car, she found it increasingly difficult to wipe the smile off of her face.

Yes, she had just been confronted by the girl whose boyfriend she had kissed.

Yes, she had just been threatened with a "smackdown."

Yes, she had seen the sadness in Quinn's eyes.

And yes… She had thought, if for a brief moment, that she could offer Quinn some consolation, some reassurance that the other girl should be with Finn – that Finn deserved her and that she deserved Finn and that, naturally, they would live happily ever after, and that Rachel would be ok with that. She had apologized for kissing Finn, but she was really just sorry that her plan hadn't actually worked.

But no, Rachel honestly wasn't sure if any of the words she had uttered were true.

She had tried to remain grounded throughout the conversation. But her name, "Rachel," had crossed Quinn's lips, and it had been magical. For a second, Rachel had imagined that Dream Quinn was a complete sham – that the girl who was able to render Rachel breathless by uttering her name could not possibly coexist in the same universe as the girl who had stood idly by watching Rachel suffer.

It simply wasn't possible.

In fact, Rachel was so distracted by her thoughts and the act of trying to stop smiling that, when she got in her car and put the key in the ignition, she was entirely unaware that she wasn't alone… Until someone cleared their throat from beside her.

Rachel released a high-pitched scream and immediately proclaimed, "I HAVE MACE!" as she turned to the woman sitting in the passenger seat of her car. It took her a moment – a moment of trying to calm her erratic heartbeat and panicked breaths – to realize that she actually recognized this woman. "Mrs. Schuester? What an earth are you doing in my car?"

Terri Schuester smiled at Rachel, and something about the way her lips curved upwards and the small sound of her voice and the fact that Rachel could clearly tell that the woman's smile was not reaching her eyes immediately caused her defenses to multiply exponentially.

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Mrs. Schuester began. Rachel mentally rolled her eyes – mentally, because Mrs. Schuester was, in fact, an adult and therefore deserved respect; and rolled her eyes because, well, _obviously_ she was going to ask what the woman was doing in her car…

"I'm aware of your current situation, Rachel," she spoke softly, reaching her hand out to place on Rachel's delicate wrist. Rachel shuddered at the way she had said "_situation_."

"I want to help you. No 16-year old girl should have to raise a baby and _alone_ at that." Rachel almost growled at the woman's condescending tone. "I happen to have a solution for you. And, let's be honest, you'd be absolutely _silly_ not to take it." Rachel arched her eyebrow, curious and offended at the same time. "You have something I need. We can be mutually beneficial to each other."

At this point, Rachel had to interrupt. She refused to think that Mrs. Schuester was implying what she was seriously implying. She had to clarify. "I'm sorry Mrs. Schuester, I'm a little confused. Can you please just tell me what this 'benefit' is that we pose for each other?"

Mrs. Schuester smiled again, and Rachel protectively wrapped her left arm around her stomach. "Rachel, I need a baby." Rachel's teeth were begging to be bared, to show themselves in a snarl. Instead, she settled for ripping her right wrist out of Terri's grasp.

"What are you saying?" Rachel exclaimed. "That you want my baby? Why on earth would I ever give you my child? What is wrong with you that makes you think it is ok in any way to approach a 16-year old girl – a minor – alone, in her car, after school, with no supervision? The list goes on and on, and all signs point to the face that you are _clearly_ unhinged. I have every mind to call the local chapter of the ACLU, my lawyer, and my dads! In that order!"

At this point, Terri had the decency to look slightly ashamed – though only slightly. However, she recovered quickly.

"Think about this, Rachel. Do you want that baby to grow up without a father? Do you want to have to come back to school after having a baby and see the other kids making fun of you and throwing frozen beverages in your face and then have to go home at the end of the school day and take care of a _baby_? Rachel, are you ready to be a mother? _I_ need a baby. _You_ need your childhood. Think about it." She paused. "Are you even taking any vitamins? Have you made doctor's appointments? Have you considered the expenses?"

Rachel was seeing red.

"Ok, Mrs. Schuester. What I'm about to say, I will say one time and one time only. And then I never want to see you anywhere near me again as long as this child is in my belly or in my life – If I so choose to keep this child in my family, my dads will be _exceptional _father figures for it. As for the kids at school? I've dealt with them for as long as I can remember. I can handle myself, though I sincerely appreciate your _concern_. The thought of taking care of another's life, while considerably daunting, is not something that I would shy away from – if I keep this little baby, I will love and nurture it. It is up to _me_ to decide whether or not I am ready to be a mother. Far be it for _you_ to determine such a thing." She took a deep breath. "As for the vitamins and doctors and money issues – my dads are going to help me with all of that. They already know –" at this, Terri's eyes lit up in surprise, "– and they support me, 100%. So I assure you – there is absolutely _nothing_ for you to concern yourself with in my life or my baby's."

After Rachel had finished her impromptu speech, she looked expectantly at Mrs. Schuester. However, the other woman sat staring back at Rachel with a dumbfounded look on her face, clearly unaware of what to do or say in response to Rachel's confidence attitude.

"You can kindly leave my car now, Mrs. Schuester," Rachel politely offered.

Without saying a word, Mrs. Schuester turned and exited the car, gently closing the door behind her.

Rachel couldn't quite believe what had just happened. She refused to let herself dwell on it, though – instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held the air in her lungs for just a few moments longer than necessary, and then released the air slowly through her slightly parted lips. She opened her eyes, put her car in reverse, and left the school parking lot, headed for home.

* * *

Quinn was leaving the school after retrieving her bag from the Cheerios' locker room when she saw Terri Schuester step out of the small car she recognized as Rachel's. Frowning slightly, Quinn approached her own car which was a few spots away from Rachel's. Terri looked decidedly shaken up, so Quinn focused on what she could see of Rachel's face – the girl was clearly trying to calm herself down, her eyes closed as she apparently …held her breath? Quinn wasn't sure, but she knew that _something_ had gone down. And that was not acceptable.

She opened the back of her car, throwing her bag inside. By now, Rachel had left the parking lot, but Terri hadn't yet reached her own car. Quinn ran towards the other woman, reaching her just as she was opening her driver's side door.

Quinn slammed it shut for her.

"Hi, Mrs. Schuester," Quinn said, a saccharine sweet smile gracing her lips. Her tone was laced with false cheeriness.

"Oh uhh… Hi there. Quinn, is it?"

Quinn nodded in response before replying with an honest tone of curiosity to her voice, "Did I just see you talking to Rachel Berry?"

Quinn didn't need Terri to verbally respond – the look on her face resembled a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar, Quinn knew she had caught the woman red-handed.

"Look, _Terri_," Quinn stated, instantly dropping every bit of false sincerity and drawing herself up to her full height (a good few inches over Mrs. Schuester's eye line). "I can honestly say that I do not care what you had to say to Rachel, or if anything was even said at all. You will _stay away_ from Rachel Berry, do I make myself clear? She does _not _need the stress of you accosting her like that, for _whatever _reason." Quinn took a step closer to the older woman, causing Terri to take a small step back in fear. "If I see you near her again…" Quinn trailed off; the implications of her statement were abhorrently clear.

Her point made, Quinn turned away from Terri and walked back to her car.

* * *

Terri stood silent and unmoving for a few seconds before getting into her car. She couldn't really do much besides sigh deeply and think, _I don't know what has become of the youth today – I was __**definitely**__ not __**that**__ much of a bitch when I was 16._

She shuddered slightly, remembering the piercing gaze of Rachel Berry's eyes, blazing with the fury of a woman whose child had been threatened, and the equally as intimidating gaze of Quinn Fabray who was _clearly_ defending someone she considered to be a friend.

_Kids_, she thought again, pulling out of the parking lot. 


	6. Ever So Sweet

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

The previous day had effectively lulled Rachel into a false sense of security within the school halls. So when three nameless jocks slammed not one – not two – but _three_ grape slushies into Rachel's face one right after the other, Rachel could only find the energy within herself to think, _Well, at least they picked grape_.

"Drink up, Preggers!" They snidely yelled over their shoulders as they left the scene, their obnoxious laughter carrying over the heads of the kids standing in the hallway and into Rachel's eardrums.

She sighed and took a moment to compose herself. But only a moment.

She proceeded to reopen her locker which she had just closed. She pulled out a small duffel bag. Inside was what she had dubbed her Emergency Slushy Clean-Up Kit. It consisted of a towel, a change of clothes, shower supplies, and everything she needed to redo the sticky mess that was currently her hair.

Her heart ached sadly as she realized that she had a legitimate need for an Emergency Slushy Clean-Up Kit…

Rachel slung the duffel over her shoulder and slowly made her way to the girls' locker rooms – a set of lockers and showers completely separate from the Cheerios' locker room, as demanded by Coach Sylvester and her prestigious Booster Club. Over the past year and a half, Rachel had become intimately familiar with the locker rooms that were notably shabbier than the – well, there was no other word for it – _elegant _locker rooms for the Cheerios. She often found herself having only her lunch period or even the time between classes to recover from a slushy attack. Fortunately, she had the Slushy Recovery Process down to a 20-minute time period. Most teachers understood when Rachel was late to class – though Rachel could never comprehend why the teachers didn't actually _do something_ to stop the slushies instead of just accepting the fact that Rachel would be eternally late.

Regardless, the fact remained that Rachel had been triple slushied, and she had to get to her next class as soon as possible – she had a test that day, for crying out loud. _It's like they plan these things, trying to make my life as miserable as humanly possible._ Then again, Rachel really knew that they wouldn't have been smart enough to inflict quite the level of pain that they had _intentionally_; they had gotten lucky, and it frustrated Rachel even more than usual.

As she stepped into the shower, the hot water hit her skin – taking the grape slushy and the tears and the shame and the _loneliness _– and washed them all down the drain.

Despite everything Rachel had been subjected to, there was still a part of her – hidden behind emotional scars and the ever-present weight on her shoulders of a child growing inside of her – that _seriously_ wished it was that simple.

Unfortunately, things were never that simple. Rachel's situation was not going to change. She was not suddenly going to become best friends with everyone in glee, the endless harassment in the hallways of WMHS was not going to stop, and the one person that Rachel wanted to simply _care_ was never going to do so. It was never going to be that simple. Sometimes, people just couldn't change.

* * *

At lunch, the glee kids who were still largely considered 'outcasts' were all sitting together.

Tina. Mercedes. Kurt. Artie.

The Cheerios and football players normally sat on the opposite side of the lunchroom. So when one Quinn Fabray approached their table – flanked on either side by Brittany and Santana (linked via pinkies) – they were surprised. Also, they were slightly scared.

"Hey guys," Quinn stated as she arrived at the head of their table, hands placed firmly on her hips.

There was a stammering of "Uhhh hi"s from everyone. Mercedes – probably the individual with the most confidence – spoke up first.

"Hi Quinn. Is there something that you need?" She asked it in a very skeptical way – almost condescendingly.

Quinn chose to overlook Mercedes' tone of voice and continued, "As a matter of fact, there is something that I need from all of you." Four sets of eyebrows rose dangerously high, threatening to be lost amidst hairlines. "It's for glee…"

Quinn proceeded to tell them about a song she thought they should prepare to perform after school the next day. They didn't really question her – she was the HBIC, questioning her wasn't protocol. They just fearfully nodded at first, but they soon realized that this was actually going to be a lot of fun – a great song, a killer arrangement, and Quinn had already worked out some simple, beautiful choreography with Santana and Brittany.

"I'm sure Rachel will be _so_ excited to sing this song," Artie mumbled under his breath.

"Actually," Quinn interjected. "I had planned on Tina singing the female lead. Finn will be singing the male lead. The parts suit both of your voices."

A huge smile lit up Tina's face and Mercedes gave her a hug, squealing excitedly. Artie gave her a high-five, and Kurt looked pissed – as was usual when he wasn't afforded a solo himself.

"We're going to practice it after school today. And then we're going to perform it tomorrow after school." Quinn turned to walk away, but she stopped herself and turned back to the kids sitting at the table. "Oh, and Rachel won't be practicing with us today. So don't let it slip to her." Though only Tina even posed any semblance of a threat as far as letting it slip to Rachel – Mercedes and Kurt blatantly refused to hide their disdain for the other girl, and Artie was normally the first to call her out on her obnoxiousness.

"Not that I really care, but why exactly can't we tell Rachel?" Kurt questioned.

"Because," Quinn responded. "We're performing it _for_ her." At this, Quinn turned on her heel and marched off to the 'popular' side of the lunchroom and seated herself next to Finn – though anyone with a brain could tell that she ignored him in lieu of talking to Brittany and Santana for the rest of the lunch period.

She had, however, left a shocked group of glee kids behind.

"Does anyone else feel like we may be in some kind of alternate universe of sorts?" Artie asked, his eyes flitting nervously between the other three people at the table. All three of their heads nodded up and down in sync.

* * *

The next day after school, Rachel was making her way to the choir room for Wednesday afternoon glee practice. As she placed her hand on the door to head inside, a voice resounded down the hall, effectively halting her progress.

"Rachel!"

She turned towards the voice and was relieved to see Tina – worst case scenario: it could have been some jock with a Super Jumbo Big Gulp coming to give Rachel one last dose of torture for the day. She had already been slushied twice today. _Twice_. That's why – instead of her usual argyle sweaters or plaid skirts – she was wearing dark blue jeans and a white, long-sleeve button down shirt (tucked in). It was, in Rachel's thoughts, _not her everyday wardrobe choice, but it would suffice for glee practice_. In related news, it was absolutely the only change of clothes she had left anywhere in the building.

"Hi Tina," Rachel said as the other girl approached her. She had clearly just run down the hall, and she slowed to a stop as her feet carried her right up to Rachel.

"Hi, you have to come with me," Tina said abruptly as way of greeting before grabbing Rachel's hand in her own and dragging her away from the choir room.

"But… But what about glee?" Rachel asked, an edge of hysteria lacing her voice. She really did hate to be late. And glee gave her a chance to sing, a chance to express herself in a way that she most certainly could _not_ during the majority of her day in the halls of William McKinley High School.

"Don't worry about it," Tina replied shortly as she continued to lead Rachel to their mystery destination. Tina momentarily looked over at the other girl, just noticing for the first time what she was wearing – the jeans were tight in all the right places on Rachel's legs, and the shirt was accentuating Rachel's curves in a way that her normal outfit selections didn't. Her hair was flowing in loose curls and waves around her face and over her shoulders. _Wow, Rachel seriously looks hot today_, Tina thought to herself. Out loud she said, "Cut outfit, Rachel," and gave the girl a bright, full-fledged smile.

Rachel was not normally on the receiving end of compliments. Slushies, horrible nicknames, emotional abuse, and being shoved around in the hall – these were all things that Rachel was inherently familiar with receiving. So when Tina told her that her outfit was cute… Well, Rachel blushed a deeper shade of scarlet than she possibly had _ever_; a true smile graced her features, and she squeezed Tina's hand slightly and muttered a sincere, "Thanks." Tina only smiled again in response.

* * *

"Tina," Rachel hesitated as they entered the room. "Is there a reason that we're in the auditorium? After all, it's rather dark in here. I can't imagine that it's particularly safe to walk around in the dark –" Rachel was interrupted as the stage was promptly lit, and her mouth fell open at the sight.

On stage, dressed in matching outfits and standing in a neatly ordered formation, was the entirety of New Directions. Mr. Schuester was sitting behind his director's desk in the audience, a small smile on his face.

This time, it was Tina who squeezed her hand first, enticing Rachel to follow her forward and onto the stage. Tina took her place in the front, next to Finn.

Next, Finn stepped forward.

"We worked out this number yesterday, Rachel. We know that you don't know the choreography, but that's ok. You get to stand up here with us while we perform. You belong up here with us. And this song… It's for you." He shyly grinned and held his hand out for her to take.

She took it… But there was a slight reluctance in her willingness to touch him. She really didn't think it was necessary for him to hold her hand to direct her just a few steps over. In the end, it didn't really matter. She just dropped the touch as soon as she could do so respectfully.

The glee kids had set themselves up two rows around Rachel. To her left, Santana. To her right, Quinn.

Rachel wasn't sure what it was, but she knew that having Quinn in such close proximity to her was electrifying. She couldn't help but look down at her shoes, her hair falling forward to frame the left side of her face. She could feel Quinn's gaze on her.

And when the music started… When the music started, Rachel thought that her heart might just _burst_ with the sheer, overwhelming amount of emotion that coursed through her. She knew the song, she knew the words. She questioned whether or not the 11 kids around her really meant what they were about to sing.

Tina and Finn's voices blended beautifully together. The other kids moved around Rachel – she noted with pride that the choreography was _really_ stunning. Tears came to her eyes, she couldn't help it. She had dealt with the bullying that high school afforded her day after day, and everything that her fellow glee members were saying right now – from their voices to their movements to the way they interacted with Rachel on the stage – was maybe working to ever so slightly _heal_ something within her.

Everyone was crossing over to the opposite side of the risers from where they had started. Rachel stood in the middle, as she had from the beginning. Tears were gently making their way down her cheeks. As each person passed her, they gently traced their fingers down her arm and to her hand, where they would give her a reassuring squeeze before they moved on to their next position in the set. Some gave her soft smiles, a few blew her kisses as they moved away from her, and Quinn – the last person to approach her – actually held onto her hand without letting go and reached up with her free hand to wipe away the tears that were still wet on Rachel's cheek. Her hand lingered on Rachel's skin. Rachel released a shaky breath, not entirely sure that this moment was real.

They stood in four columns, everyone facing inward towards Rachel (who was still holding hands with Quinn). The formation closed around the two girls, everyone coming together for the final moments of the song. Everyone joined hands at this point. Rachel smiled through her tears.

Though the entire group was singing to her, Rachel only had eyes for Quinn Fabray.

And to Quinn's everlasting credit, she didn't look away from Rachel's gaze for a single moment.

As the music stopped, the auditorium plunged into absolute silence. The only sound that could be heard was the slight exhalation of breath from Rachel's lips.

* * *

What followed was a fairly cliché group hug. And Rachel loved it.

It put her even closer to Quinn.

She found herself with her arms wrapped around Tina and Kurt. Finn was right behind Quinn and was also attempting to wrap his arms around Rachel – the only thing this succeeded in doing was putting Quinn's body flush against Rachel's.

Rachel could swear that she felt Quinn's hands on her back. One was low by the waistband of her jeans. The other was in the small of her back. Rachel kept telling herself that Quinn's soft touches over her clothes were _not_ as soft and tender and _loving_ as she was imagining. That just wouldn't make any sense whatsoever.

And Quinn's cheek was pressed against hers.

But Rachel couldn't lie to herself about that – Quinn's skin was _definitely __**that**_ soft against Rachel's.

The group slowly broke apart and headed their separate ways. Because of their close proximity, Quinn was one of the last to step away from Rachel. Whatever strength had been given to Quinn – strength that had allowed her to stare into the eyes of the girl she had tortured for _years_ and sing to her about _hope_ – was gone. She quickly averted her gaze and left the stage behind Finn.

Tina, however, lingered. She pulled Rachel into a final hug, and Rachel reciprocated. Her body felt lighter than it had in a very long time. She felt something within her heart that resembled… Happiness.

"Thank you so much, Tina. What you did for me today was beautiful. You and everyone in glee. I appreciate it all so, so much."

Tina pulled back slightly, placing a soft hand on Rachel's cheek (immediately, Rachel mentally confirmed that Tina's hand was _not_ as soft as Quinn's), ducked her head down to ensure that Rachel was looking directly into her eyes, and said, "If you want to thank anyone, you should thank Quinn. It was _her_ idea, after all. We just helped make it happen." Tina gave Rachel's shoulders a small, reassuring squeeze before walking away, leaving Rachel completely shocked.

A warm feeling spread through Rachel's chest as she stood on the stage alone – it felt a bit like **hope** – and Rachel thought to herself, _Maybe_ _people __**can**__ change_.


	7. Falling Slowly

_A/N: Fairly short chapter. I just felt like ending it there, which is my right, yes? But I have more ideas. So I probably won't make you wait long for another update._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Several weeks had passed since the glee club had performed for Rachel. Quinn often found herself recounting the entire experience; what it had been like to touch her hand to the side of Rachel's face – to feel the cool path the other girl's tears had left as they had trailed down her face, down her neck, and disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt. Quinn had found herself mesmerized by the other girl – she had also found herself pressed up against said girl in what very quickly turned into a fairly intimate embrace.

_

* * *

As Quinn followed Finn off the stage, she found that she could go no further. She took a detour and planted herself firming against a wall backstage. Slowly, she bent her knees and allowed her body to slide down the wall until she was in a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around her knees, laying her head against her thigh._

_A single tear escaped and slid down her cheek and onto her pants._

_Quinn hadn't always been cold and hard and seemingly heartless. Before high school, she would even go so far as to consider herself to have been __**nice**__. She knew that she had changed. Every morning when she would wake up, put on her Cheerios uniform and look in the mirror, she would tell herself – "You're hot. You have a desirable reputation. People turn and watch as you pass them in the hall. You're dating the quarterback. You have it all." She often found herself repeating it over and over and over again – desperately trying to cover up the equally as powerful mantra of "You're a Grade A Bitch. You walk all over people. You send girls to the bathroom in tears. You control Finn because he's good for your reputation, not because you have any ounce of feeling for him. You're hot and popular – but what does it matter if you're not happy?"_

_So when she had found herself pressed against Rachel – when she had felt the soft caress of Rachel's breath against her neck and the firmness of Rachel's body against her own – Quinn had genuinely __**felt something**__, and it scared the living daylights out of her._

_Another tear fell down Quinn's face, and she wiped at it roughly. Crying wasn't allowed._

_She had assumed that everyone had left the auditorium by now – so she was startled when she heard the remarkably distinct voice of Rachel Berry. The girl who was occupying her thoughts was now overwhelming her auditory senses with her voice, a cappella. The voice of an angel, Quinn could only assume._

"_Don't know much about your life," Rachel sang. Quinn recognized the song after only a few lines – her mom was a huge Celine Dion fan, after all. "Maybe this is going too fast, and maybe it's not meant to last." Quinn sighed, her tears relentlessly flowing at this point. "What do you say to taking chances?" __**Well**__, Quinn thought, __**I don't often, Rachel. But for you, I'm starting to think I would do anything**__. "And I don't know much about your world…" A few minutes later when Rachel finished the song, Quinn let out a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. She had stopped crying._

_She felt hopeful._

_Quinn heard the sounds of Rachel's footsteps walking across the stage. The little diva pushed open the side curtains, making for the backstage exit. Quinn knew that if Rachel's gaze shifted in Quinn's direction for even a second, she would be found out. She was sitting, huddled, in plain sight._

_But Rachel's gaze didn't falter from her destination._

_And Quinn found herself alone in the auditorium. The stage lights were shut off, and Quinn was immersed in total darkness._

_**Maybe people can change after all**__, Quinn thought. __**Maybe **_**I**_** can change.**_

* * *

Quinn knew that something within her _had_ changed. Nowadays, she would often remain silent when an opportunity to mock Rachel presented itself; this would cause Santana's eyebrows to arch sharply and she would glare at Quinn questioningly. Every time Quinn saw Rachel get slushied out of the corner of her eye, she would inexplicably feel a white, hot rage bubbling within her chest – she often slammed her locker in response. Hard.

Quinn knew that she had power within this school. She could order a lot of people around, and she could get things done when she wanted to. But the bullying of Rachel Berry was something of an anomaly that she wasn't sure how to approach – since they had all entered high school, Rachel was a target. Before Quinn became Head Cheerio, there were already hurtful nicknames for Rachel and specific days on which the girl _would_ be slushied; Quinn herself had patented several new nicknames for the other girl – something that, _now_, disgusted her completely.

As Quinn witnessed – yet again – the slushying of Rachel Berry in between fourth and fifth period on that Thursday afternoon, she made a split-second decision. The hallway was relatively crowded, and there were several Cheerios there, prepared to verbally humiliate Rachel as she headed towards the locker rooms to de-slushify herself.

Quinn was about to make an example of someone. She almost felt sorry for whoever chose to address Rachel first.

Unfortunately for Hailey Robertson, it was her. The small, blonde freshman Cheerio – clearly eager to prove that she had what it took to be a total bitch and to therefore fit right in with the rest of the squad – was the first to threateningly open her mouth as Rachel moved quickly down the hall (while protectively shielding her now _very_ noticeable baby bump), trying to escape the verbal volley of assaults that she was normally subjected to after a slushy facial.

"Hey Treasure Tr –" the girl was immediately cut off as the air was knocked out of her. Quinn had forcefully slammed her back into the lockers. A frightened look crossed Hailey's face, but it was soon replaced with a look of confusion. "What the hell, Quinn?"

"Shut your mouth Robertson, and listen to what I'm about to say," Quinn kept one hand firmly on the locker next to Hailey's ear, but she turned her body out to the crowd – she wanted to make it clear that this went for _everyone_, not just Hailey. A couple Cheerios were still whispering behind their hands, ignoring Quinn's death glares. So Santana practically pounced on them, telling them to "Shut up and listen to your Captain, or else you'll have _me_ to deal with," which immediately gave Quinn their attention.

Quinn smirked gratefully at Santana, who had just proved what many people weren't aware of – that Santana and Quinn were best friends, Santana was Quinn's second-in-command on the squad, and that (no matter how confused Santana was about Quinn's actions) she was going to do whatever Quinn needed her to do.

"Now that I have your attention," Quinn growled, turning back to Hailey. "Consider this a warning to you, to _everyone_," she glared menacingly around the crowded and silent hallway. "That you are to _stay away_ from Rachel Berry. No more name calling. No more slushy facials. No more _anything_. Is that understood?" Hailey was simply frozen in fear, unable to respond. "I said," Quinn lowered her voice, her face mere inches from Hailey's. "Is that understood?" She spoke slowly, deliberately, every ounce of intimidation that she had ever cultivated in her 16 years of life lacing her words.

The girl nodded.

Quinn smiled sweetly at her, "Excellent."

Quinn proceeded to turn on her heel and saunter off down the hallway. Santana and Brittany quickly fell in line behind her, their pinkies linked (as usual).

Once they had rounded the nearest corner and found themselves in a mostly deserted area, Quinn turned to face her friends.

"Thanks, Santana."

"No problem, Q," Santana replied. She was about to open her mouth again, because there was no way she was going to let Quinn get away with what had just happened without getting a few answers for herself. Brittany, however, beat her to the punch.

"You have it bad, don't you, Q?" Brittany asked innocently, looking Quinn straight in the eye. Quinn found it slightly unnerving – that the girl who often came across as 'slow' could look at her in this moment and make Quinn feel as if her heart was literally hanging on her sleeve.

Santana turned to Brittany, her eyebrow arched. "B… What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, Brit," Quinn replied – her 'questioning' tone absolutely unconvincing, even to Santana who was still slightly confused. "What _are_ you talking about?" She turned yet again, prepared to walk away from the conversation, but Santana's hand on her wrist stopped her.

"Nuh uh, Fabray. No way. She asked you a question. And I think you damn well know the answer. So don't blow her off." Santana could get very defensive when it came to the treatment of her 'best friend,' and Quinn knew that she was clearly going to have to provide some kind of answer to appease them.

Quinn sighed heavily and turned back to Brittany. "Listen, Rachel is _pregnant_, for goodness' sake. Do you see how often she gets slushied? Do you hear what people call her, day after day? Stress is _not good_ for someone who is pregnant. I really don't think any of us can afford to have that little baby's life on our conscience should something unmentionable happen because of the bullying done to Rachel." Here, Quinn gave pause – she found it remarkable that she had even been able to utter those last few words; the thought alone was making her sick to her stomach. "So yes, I think that Rachel deserves for us to have her back. The end."

"That's not all of it, Q," Brittany replied knowingly, even as Quinn was futilely trying to walk away. "But I understand. You can tell us when you feel like telling us."

Quinn loved her best friends, but some things were not meant to be said aloud. At least, not yet.


	8. Say It Ain't So

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Rachel found herself gravitating towards an unlikely location – the football stadium. The weather had been getting worse. Winters in Ohio could be treacherous. But the snow had slackened, and it was only quite chilly – not bone-numbingly or breath-achingly cold. Just… cold.

Rachel sat herself on the topmost row of the stadium's bleachers. As the cold metal came in contact with her jeans, she realized belatedly that a blanket of some sort would have been more than appropriate.

She held a thick manila envelope in her hands.

Within this envelope resided Rachel's future. It could be brilliant, or it could be devastating.

It had all started one month ago…

* * *

"_Dad, Daddy, I need to speak with you," Rachel approached her dads in their study one evening after dinner._

"_Ok, sweetie. What's up?" Marcus asked, leaning back in his chair. Brendon patted the seat next to him on the couch, indicating that Rachel should sit next to him. She gladly obliged._

"_As you know, Tay-Sachs disease is an inherent risk for children of Jewish descent," Rachel began. Marcus and Brendon immediately looked at each other, frowns marring their features. Why hadn't they thought of this before? "As such, I have been doing a liberal amount of facebook stalking of one Mr. Jesse St. James and his extended family. I am sincerely afraid to report that he does, in fact, have blood relatives who are Jewish." Rachel's voice wavered slightly. Brendon reached out and took Rachel's hand, he placed a light kiss on the back of it before drawing her into a one-armed hug. "You both know what this means. I need to have a genetic test panel run on my baby. Ideally, we should do this as soon as possible."_

_Brendon nodded, "You're right, pumpkin. I'll call Dr. Hayworth's office first thing in the morning and schedule an appointment. Please try not to worry. I'm confident that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your baby." He smiled reassuringly at his only daughter and hoped with every fiber of his being that his reassurances were not misplaced. Marcus walked over to the couch and leaned down, kissing Rachel lightly on the forehead and squeezing her shoulders lovingly._

_Two days later, Rachel drove to her doctor's office. Her fathers met her there. The blood was drawn and sent away to be analyzed. After, Brendon and Marcus shared a family hug with her and then told her that they would all meet at home in half an hour for take-out. Rachel smiled bravely and nodded. She closed her car door behind her as her dads' car pulled out of the lot._

_Her hands started shaking first. Then her shoulders. Her lips remained tightly sealed as she attempted to hold on to her last shred of dignity. __**Don't fall apart, Rachel. Don't fall apart. **__ But she fell apart. It was inevitable. She lost it. Her entire body was shaking. __**What if the results are positive? What if I've doomed this child to a short, unfulfilled life? What have I done? **__ She sobbed uncontrollably. By the time she had run out of tears, her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen. She finally managed to control her breathing, and she drove herself home._

_When she walked into the kitchen, her dads didn't question why she was 20 minutes late to dinner. Brendon pulled out a chair for her, and he and Marcus each kissed her on the forehead before filling a plate for her._

_**Tomorrow is another day**__, she thought._

* * *

And today was the day. Rachel had gotten home from school well before her dads were home from work. When she checked the mail, her heart felt like it had become lodged in her throat. It was relatively difficult to force her hands to stay still long enough to set the rest of the mail aside and focus on the test results in her hands.

She couldn't open the envelope here, not in their home. If the results were negative, then Rachel could fall asleep tonight knowing that her baby was going to be healthy and strong. If the results were positive… Well, if it turned out that her baby was positive for Tay-Sachs, it was going to be a long and difficult road ahead for her family. She couldn't risk opening the envelope that could potentially contain such devastating news inside this house. She wrote a note to her fathers, explaining that she would not be home for dinner – that they should not wait up for her.

And so she found herself at the football stadium.

The envelope was clenched tightly in her hands. She hadn't shifted her position the slightest in upwards of an hour. It was only 5:00pm, but she could tell that it would be dark before long. She should open the envelope.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her head snapped up. A figure was jogging towards the stadium. The track – completely clear of any residual snow from the most recent storm – probably provided an excellent place to run. It only took a few moments for the lightly-bundled figure to make their way onto the track and closer to Rachel. As soon as Rachel saw the blonde ponytail bobbing back and forth, she knew who she was now sharing the football stadium with.

Quinn Fabray.

Her heart jumped a little bit. She had been relishing every moment that she was able to spend with the other girl in glee club over the past few weeks. In fact, she had heard that the Prohibition on Rachel Slushying had been ordered by none other than the HBIC herself. Rachel hadn't yet thanked the girl.

But somehow, she really did not feel that this was the time or the place. Her emotions were completely frazzled – and she still hadn't even seen the results yet.

A few minutes passed by, Quinn kept making her way around and around the track at what was clearly a comfortable pace for her.

And then it happened.

Quinn looked up, and her eyes landed on the lone figure sitting at the top of the bleachers. She gradually slowed her speed down, finally coming to a stop with her hands on her hips – her shoulders were moving slightly up and down with the inhalation and exhalation of breath from her lungs into the cold evening air. She was directly facing Rachel. It was clearly Rachel. In fact, she knew it was Rachel the second she caught sight of her.

Making a snap judgment, Quinn proceeded to run straight up the bleacher stairs. When she got to the top, she walked at a more leisurely gait over to the bundled up brunette before sitting down right next to her. She immediately noticed the manila envelope in Rachel's hands – it was slightly creased where Rachel's fingers (red with cold and the effort of gripping the envelope so tightly) had dug into it.

"Hi Rachel," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel's gaze didn't falter from the football field, Quinn noticed. Her eyes were glazed over just a bit. She looked like she was on the verge of tears – as if she had been on the verge of tears for a long, long time now. Quinn reached her hand out slowly, gently placing it on Rachel's leg that was closest to her. She could feel the other girl shivering underneath her light touch. Quinn assumed she wasn't feeling the cold to the same extent as Rachel – she had, after all, just been running for quite a while. And Rachel had been here well before Quinn had arrived.

"Rachel, you're freezing," Quinn chastised her softly, subconsciously scooting closer to Rachel so that their thighs were pressed together.

Rachel finally showed signs of coherence – after Quinn moved closer to her, Rachel instinctively shifted her weight so that she was leaning slightly against the other girl. She finally released her deadly grip on the envelope, opting to sit it gently in her lap instead. She ran her hands over its creases a couple of times before simply folding her hands on top of it.

She finally turned her head to look at Quinn with a soft, sad smile on her face. "Hello Quinn." Quinn just gave an equally soft, sincere smile in return. "Do you often go for runs outside in the cold weather months?" Rachel questioned quietly.

Quinn knew that Rachel was steering the conversation away from herself. Quinn let her.

"Yeah, actually, I do. I've always hated running indoors. It never felt right. And I run every day. So I just try and dress appropriately." She paused. "It tends to work out. Like today, see? If I were running in some gym, I wouldn't have happened to see Rachel Berry sitting alone in the football stadium." Rachel's eyes snapped up (she had already allowed herself to become preoccupied with the envelope again, and Quinn's words had effectively regained her attention) and locked with Quinn's. "I wouldn't have ever realized that you were alone right now. And I never would have known that you clearly needed someone to be with you, to help you handle whatever it is that is inside that envelope you're holding onto so carefully."

"I…" Rachel began but couldn't really continue. What was there to say?

"What's in the envelope, Rachel?" Quinn asked – she was pushing, yes, but she knew she could get away with it. Rachel looked so torn about opening the envelope – Quinn was certain that it was something very important. It wasn't healthy for Rachel to stress over what was inside any longer than she already had. Quinn was going to help her open it – and she was going to be there for Rachel, whatever was inside.

Rachel exhaled slowly. She picked up the envelope again, but this time, she placed it firmly against her chest – she hugged it to her as if the envelope itself was her unborn child, cradling it softly in her embrace.

"Inside this envelope rests the fate of my unborn child," Rachel answered Quinn's question.

Quinn knew the situation was grimly serious – but she couldn't help but find Rachel's penchant for the dramatic entirely endearing.

"Please explain," Quinn prodded gently.

"I've been doing some research on Jesse's family. It turns out that he has Jewish relatives. I am also Jewish, as you may or may not be aware. There is a recessive genetic disease, Tay-Sachs, that is most common in Jewish families. If both Jesse and I are carriers for the disease, my child will be born with it. She will eventually become blind. Deaf. Won't be able to swallow. Paralyzed, even. _At most_, she will live to the age of four."

By now, tears were openly streaming down Rachel's face. An overwhelming urge to protect Rachel – an urge that Quinn had become intimately familiar with over the last couple of months – came over Quinn in that moment. She wrapped her left arm around Rachel's shoulders, fully pulling the girl into her arms. Her right hand came up to Rachel's cheek, gently pulling Rachel's head down to Quinn's shoulder. She rested her own cheek against the soft locks of Rachel's hair.

"Shhh…" Quinn whispered quietly, comforting Rachel by rocking her trembling body gently back and forth. Rachel's arms were gripping tightly at her thigh and around her back. It was like she was trying to keep from losing more than just her physical grip on Quinn, on the situation.

"Quinn," she sobbed. "I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if I bring a beautiful baby girl into this world only to have her waste away before my very eyes!"

"Rachel, listen to me," she very, _very_ reluctantly pulled away from Rachel, if only to give herself room to cup Rachel's face between her hands and force the shaking girl to look directly into her eyes. "We are going to open that envelope right now. We're going to find out if your fears are unfounded. And then, from there, we'll deal with whatever we have to deal with. Do you understand?" Rachel released a shaky breath before squeezing her eyes shut tightly – a few tears leaked out – and she nodded once. "Ok, do you want me to do it? Or would you like to?"

"Would you mind terribly?" Rachel timidly asked.

"Of course not. Here," she took the envelope from Rachel.

Quinn wasted no time in breaking the envelope's seal and pulling out the stack of papers. There was quite a bit of data – several charts and graphs. She was holding what looked to be loads more information than simply whether or not Rachel's little girl would be born with Tay-Sachs disease.

Finally, Quinn found what she was looking for.

"Rachel," Quinn began.

Rather interrupted her. "Quinn, please… Please, please, please… Tell me now. Do it quickly. I can't take another second of this awful waiting charade." The broken sound in Rachel's voice was more than enough to spur Quinn to verbal action.

"Your baby girl is going to be born happy and healthy, and she is going to live a long and fulfilled life, Rachel. She doesn't have Tay-Sachs. Neither you _nor_ Jesse is a carrier for the disease."

Quinn could visibly see the weight lift from Rachel's shoulders. Her eyes lit up with happiness, she squeezed Quinn's hand – which she had been gripping tightly for the last several minutes – she literally jumped up into the air, and she released what was quite possibly the greatest sounding bit of laughter Quinn had ever heard in her life.

Rachel sat back down next to her, and Quinn couldn't help but smile brilliantly at the ecstatic girl who was leaning against her shoulder and who continued to firmly grip Quinn's hand in her own.

"So," Quinn said. "A baby girl, huh?"

In response, Rachel simply smiled fiercely before launching herself at Quinn and giving her an exceptionally wonderful hug.

In that moment, each girl was thinking that it wouldn't be so bad – if they never had to let go.

_

* * *

A/N: You are all spectacular. Thanks for reading thus far._


	9. Makeup Smeared Eyes

_A/N: I wrote the word 'envelope' in the last chapter so much that now it looks like it's spelled totally wrong._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Monday morning, Rachel was walking down the hall before school. She was a little early, but she was headed to her locker to grab her history book; she needed to finish a last bit of homework in the half hour or so before class started.

Her plans were slightly derailed when she felt a sudden twisting in her stomach.

"Oh no," she muttered under her breath before quite literally breaking out into a run for the nearest girls' bathroom.

* * *

Quinn rounded the corner before school, headed to her locker to grab her book bag after Cheerios practice let out. As the long stretch of hallway fully entered her line of sight, she saw the fleeting figure of Rachel Berry running around the far corner.

Without much thought, Quinn took off in a sprint after the other girl.

She burst into the bathroom just in time to see Rachel throw open a stall door and drop down to her knees. Quinn hurried forward and gently pulled the other girl's long, soft tresses away from her face. With her free hand, she began to rub soothing circles on Rachel's back while the other girl emptied the contents of her stomach in the toilet.

Rachel heaved a deep sigh before turning sideways and fully sitting down on the floor, one hand resting on her forehead. Quinn reached forward and easily flushed the toilet before dropping down to eye level with Rachel and cupping her cheek softly.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Loads," Rachel replied, covering her mouth self-consciously.

Quinn smiled before standing up and sticking out her hands for Rachel to grab on to. She did, and Quinn lifted her easily to her feet.

"Do you have a toothbrush or anything?" she asked Rachel.

"I do," Rachel said before reaching into her bag and pulling out her Emergency Morning Sickness Kit, as she had officially dubbed it.

Quinn leaned casually against the wall by the door, averting her eyes from Rachel while she brushed her teeth. After Rachel had finished – and neatly stored the Kit back in her bag – she approached Quinn.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Quinn smiled in response. "No biggie, Rachel. All I did was hold your hair back."

Rachel shook her head. "No, Quinn. I think you know that I'm referring to far more than just this morning." She bit her lip shyly (something Rachel Berry wasn't often caught doing) and looked down at the floor briefly. _Confidence, Rachel_, she told herself before looking up into Quinn's eyes. "I haven't been slushied in weeks now. The Cheerios and jocks don't taunt me like they used to. I know _you_ are the reason behind that." Quinn looked down, embarrassed – a slight blush started to bloom on her cheeks. Rachel reached down and grabbed her hand. "I know that 'Keep Holding On' was your idea." At this revelation, Quinn's eyebrows arched dangerously high and she looked nervously at Rachel. "It was beautiful, Quinn. I loved being a part of glee club before – but since that song, I've felt like part of a _family_, not just part of another club." The girls both smiled at each other, a comfortable silence surrounding them.

Finally, Rachel spoke again. "Anyway, my point is simple. I'm thankful for everything you've done Quinn. Especially," she gulped and her eyes began to shine with emotion. "Last weekend at the football stadium. I was incredibly vulnerable – something I'm not particularly proud of – and I was in the perfect position for someone to take advantage of my emotions. You were admirable. Yes, I'm thankful for everything, but most importantly, Quinn – I'm thankful for _you_. I know we have an usual history… And regardless of things that may have happened in the past – maybe even in spite of my better judgment – I consider you a friend, Quinn." She squeezed Quinn's hand gently before letting go and adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I'll see you in glee after school, right?"

Quinn was momentarily unable to find her voice. But Rachel was looking at her with bright, shining eyes and an adorable smile and she had just extended her _friendship_ to Quinn and the girl knew that she couldn't simply just _stand there_ for much longer without looking like an idiot… So she replied, "Of course, Rachel. I'll see you there."

Rachel smiled, nodding at the confirmation and began walking towards the door. Quinn – her actions completely separate from her thoughts at this point, thus not making her responsible for what she was doing – reached out and grabbed Rachel's wrist as she was about to open the door. She pulled Rachel to her, gently, and enveloped the shorter girl in a tight embrace. "Thanks, Rachel," she mumbled into Rachel's hair.

Not entirely willing to pull back yet, Rachel replied, "Whatever for, Quinn?" And her words were almost lost against Quinn's neck.

"For giving me another chance."

* * *

"Mr. Schue, I seriously think what this group needs is something more _black_ to perform," Mercedes proclaimed loudly as Mr. Schue walked into the room.

He rubbed his hands together excitedly before clapping them once, pointing at Mercedes, and saying, "Nope!" before moving to stand in front of the group. "You can dip something in chocolate later, Mercedes. I think this week's assignment is something that you can _all_ appreciate. I want you to run with it and _have fun_!" The kids were sure that he was on the verge of jumping up and down in excitement, he seemed so pumped up.

"I know that you guys have started to become slightly _complacent_ since you found out who our competition is for sectionals –"

He was interrupted by Kurt. "Yes, since our 'competition' consists of deaf kids –"

"And juvenile delinquents," Mercedes finished for him.

They turned to each other and high-fived.

"Exactly my point," Mr. Schue continued. "You guys need to get in the competitive spirit. Because no matter what you may think, if we get up on that stage at sectionals and there isn't a _fire_ in our performance, the judges are going to see right through you – they'll know that you think you have it in the bag. And no one is going to reward you for that. So this week," he paused dramatically. "We're going to hold our First Annual Boys vs. Girls Competition!"

He was trying to get the kids excited, and it worked – immediately, chatter broke out and ideas were already being tossed around frantically. For the first time in a while, Rachel was animatedly talking to Tina about the plethora of ideas she had written down for _just_ such an occasion – it was a glimpse of Rachel Berry pre-Babygate, and Quinn couldn't help but smile proudly.

* * *

The next day, the girls all met together in the small dance studio at school. They were going to share ideas and start working on their arrangement.

All of the glee girls – including a very, _very_ reluctant Santana and an always-competitive Mercedes – had started to forge friendships with Rachel over the past couple of months. They were all secretly blaming it on Rachel's pregnancy hormones, but the girl really had become noticeably less obnoxious. And she had started dressing less like a toddler/grandmother and more like… Well, more like an average teenage girl. Santana had tried to ignore it, but when Brittany had whispered in her ear that "_Rachel looks totally hot today, Santana. Maybe I can help her pick out baby names, and then you and I can play with her_," Santana had experienced first, repulsion – and second, an annoying sense of agreement as she eyed Rachel up and down. The baby bump was definitely _not _a turn off when coupled with a babydoll dress that was showing off a fairly great portion of Rachel's legs – _because really_, Santana thought, _how are her legs so __**long?**_

In addition to her welcome behavioral changes, the girls of glee _knew_ that Rachel was full of good ideas. So they accepted her mash-up idea of 'Halo' and 'Walking on Sunshine' when she first proposed it without hesitation.

"I think those songs are going to work well together," Tina said.

"Yeah, and I _love_ me some Beyonce," Mercedes added with a head swivel.

"So I was thinking," Rachel began. "Brittany and Santana can start us off with some basic choreography and we can go from there. As for our outfits, I think Quinn and Tina could be our go-to girls. And if you don't mind, Mercedes, I would love your help in the actually mashing-up of the two songs. Does all of that sound good for everyone?"

"Sure, girl. Let's get started on the songs."

"Yay! Santana, we get to make up the dance moves!"

"Sure, Rach. Quinn, I have some magazines in my bag. We can start there for ideas."

Everyone broke off into groups of two and started preparing their mash-up.

Rachel couldn't help but thinking, _Poor boys. They are __**so**__ going down._

* * *

Wednesday, the girls all met at the mall. It was time to pick out their outfits. Tina and Quinn had decided that they would all wear yellow dresses, but that each dress would be different. Rachel excitedly proclaimed, "Oh my gosh, girls. Yellow is the _perfect_ color!" Quinn secretly thought that Rachel was giving them _far_ too much credit for such a simple idea, but she most definitely wasn't going to point that out to her.

As they walked through the mall, they lost Tina and Mercedes early on in some jewelry store. Brittany and Santana got distracted by the pet store and promised to catch up to them later. Quinn and Rachel continued on, looking for the right store to find their dresses.

After a couple minutes of strolling leisurely through the mall, Quinn glanced over at Rachel. The other girl was biting her lip nervously, and her forehead was creased with worry.

"Rachel," Quinn asked, reaching out and grabbing Rachel's hand – _yet again_, she thought excitedly. "What's worrying you?"

"Well, Quinn… _This_ is what's worrying me," she said, gesturing to her stomach – she was again wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with a tucked in button down. _What?_ Quinn wondered. _She's worried that she looks absolutely adorable?_

"I'm sorry," she opted to say out loud with a slight shake of her head. "What is it that you're worried about exactly?"

"The baby bump, Quinn," Rachel sighed exasperatedly. "My clothes won't be fitting soon. Even trying on dresses for this assignment has been weighing heavily on my mind. I'm going to explode before long. I can handle a lot of things. But," she hesitated at this point, unsure of how to say exactly what it was she wanted to say. She stopped and Quinn stopped as well, facing her. "I'm afraid of losing what little I have in the way of attractiveness once my stomach begins to resemble a beach ball. I'm actually incredibly vain, Quinn, in case you weren't aware. I know I've never been very pretty, but suddenly I find myself faced with the inevitability of a huge change to my body over which I have no control. It's actually quite terrifying…" She trailed off, completely upset with herself for spilling such intimate details about her own body image and her fears to Quinn Fabray, regardless of their newly founded friendship.

"Well Rachel, I can't do anything about the growth of your baby, we both know that. But what I _can_ do is help you pick out a _beautiful _yellow dress." She grinned at Rachel, trying to lighten the mood. Rachel just smiled back shyly, and they continued walking. "Also, I know that my past actions are probably part of the reason why you don't feel that you're 'very pretty,' but you need to know the truth." Rachel looked up at her questioningly, nervously. "You're beautiful, Rachel. You always have been. The Cheerios who have always called you names… Me, even… We were just jealous – of your naturally ability to be beautiful, even when you were wearing _ridiculous_ outfits. And of your confidence."

Rachel chuckled slightly, "Well, I'm afraid that my confidence levels most certainly aren't what they used to be."

Quinn bumped her shoulder with Rachel's. "We can work on that."

* * *

Rachel stood in the dressing room looking down at her body, clothed only in her underwear. Her hair was falling onto her chest from over her right shoulder. She swallowed nervously, her hands delicately touched her abdomen. Her baby…

"Rachel?" Quinn called from the other side of the partition.

"Yes?" Rachel responded.

"I've got another one here for you to try on. And you _have_ to actually let me see this one. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer again."

Rachel sighed. "_Fine_!"

Quinn put the dress over the top of the door. Rachel slipped it on over her head. There was a small zipper right in the center of her back that she couldn't quite reach to pull up. The front, however, fit her snugly under her breasts and fell pleasingly out from her body to just above her knees.

She couldn't help but smile.

She opened the door and walked towards Quinn – whose head was down, texting Santana who was questioning her about her whereabouts. Quinn looked up as Rachel's feet filled her vision. She trailed her eyes up the length of Rachel's body before looking into her eyes. Rachel bit her lip and slowly turned around, presenting her back to Quinn.

"Zip me up?"

"S-sure." Quinn would have slapped her forehead for stuttering. Unfortunately, that would have made her look like even more of an idiot.

She gripped the zipper between her fingers and slowly pulled it up. She stood behind Rachel, and they were facing one of the dressing room mirrors. Quinn surveyed Rachel from over the shorter girl's shoulder. She was beautiful. But a hesitant look still graced Rachel's features, and Quinn felt a strong desire to rid her of it. She placed her hands on each of Rachel's upper arms and lightly ran her hands down to the brunette's, holding both of them at Rachel's sides. She looked directly into Rachel's eyes in the mirror.

"Would it be more cliché in this moment to say you looked like a ray of sunshine or an angel? Because I'll choose whichever one sounds more cliché. It would be oddly fitting."

She succeeded in making Rachel blush – mission complete.

* * *

After the boys' performance on Thursday, the girls knew that something was up. No high school student had _that much_ energy. Not possible.

Their male accomplice – Kurt – quickly informed them at their after school practice that they had 'taken something.' That 'something' was pseudoephedrine. Apparently, the new school nurse was handing out the decongestant like candy to kids who came to her for virtually _any_ ailment.

The girls decided that they would do anything to beat the boys. They were _not_ going to perform Usher at sectionals without a fight.

* * *

Friday after lunch, all of the girls met up and headed to the nurse's office for their 'pick me up's. As they approached her door, they saw several jocks leaving (and high-fiving).

The girls all walked in, Rachel entering last right behind Tina. Santana explained why they were there to the nurse – who was still turned around, writing something down and counting empty boxes of decongestant.

When she turned around, Rachel quite literally lost the ability to breathe for a moment.

"Ok girls – let me get each of you a dose –" she stopped suddenly as her eyes locked with Rachel's.

All of the other girls in the room snapped their heads towards Rachel simultaneously. Their silent inquiries were destined to go unanswered as Rachel backed up slowly before quickly storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Only Quinn followed. The rest stayed and took the 'vitamin D.' Brittany took away an extra dose for Quinn and Rachel each.

Quinn quickly caught up to Rachel and pulled her into the nearest deserted classroom. Rachel immediately broke down into sobs, practically falling against Quinn's chest as Quinn leaned against the teacher's desk, holding Rachel firmly around her waist.

"Shhh Rachel, it's ok," she murmured into the other girl's hair. She was momentarily distracted. "Wow. Your hair smells _really _good." Rachel stopped crying, if only to more effectively look at Quinn with a questioning expression. "What? It does."

Rachel giggled. Quinn smiled, wondering if this was maybe what it felt like to begin falling in love with someone – even if that someone's makeup was running from their tears and they had just left a patch of damp wetness on your shirt from crying so hard. Even if that someone was a girl. _But a girl who has decided to give me a second chance_, she thought.

"I'm sorry for running out like that. It's just, that _woman_," she hissed, "is quite despicable." Rachel looked Quinn straight in the eyes and fiercely said, "She asked me for my baby. She wanted my baby girl for herself. She cornered me in my car after school one day… I told her off, but still – it was quite the unnerving experience. Seeing her so suddenly was quite unexpected and disconcerting."

Quinn had heard the expression 'seeing red' before, but she had never experienced it. When Rachel told her what Terri Schuester had actually done to Rachel that day in her car, Quinn was immediately remorseful for having let the older woman off _so easily. _She deserved bodily harm, at the least. Quinn was definitely 'seeing red.'

"I can't believe her!" Quinn seethed. "I told her to _stay away _from you, Rachel. I can't believe she would be so _stupid_ as to actually come and get a job here at school. What a complete _idiot_!"

Rachel wasn't sure if she had heard correctly. "What? What do you mean that you told her to stay away from me? I mean, _I_ most certainly told her the same thing. But I was unaware that you had any dealings with Mrs. Schuester, especially on my behalf."

Quinn's eyes widened. She hadn't ever actually meant for Rachel to find out that she had defended the other girl's honor – albeit in secret, and while they were still far from what one would consider _friends_. In fact, earlier that same day she had just finished telling Rachel off – for having kissed her _boyfriend_ – for goodness' sake.

She was actually slightly embarrassed. It was her turn to blush as she said, "Well, I actually saw her get out of your car that day… You looked upset… I mean, I knew that I had probably upset you not even half an hour before her, but it seriously bugged me that she had bothered you. So I had words with her." She looked down at her shoes. "I'm sorry if I was out of line."

Rachel placed her hand under Quinn's chin and lifted it just enough so that she could look the girl directly in the eyes. "No Quinn, that's perfectly alright. It's something that any friend would've done, I think."

They smiled at each other shyly, each blushing for remarkably similar reasons. They clasped hands (_Yet again_, Rachel thought to herself happily) and went off in search of the other glee girls.

* * *

After their mash-up performance (for which Rachel opted _not_ to take the decongestant, stating that "I have enough energy to keep up with _all of you_, vitamin D or no vitamin D!"), the girls gave high-fives and hugs all around, giggling excitedly at what they had just pulled off. The guys also came over to congratulate them on their awesome performance. Another group hug resulted, and Rachel found herself pressed snugly up against Quinn yet again.

When Rachel smiled brilliantly up at her from the sea of glee bodies and gently laid her head on Quinn's shoulder, Quinn knew that digging her elbows into both Finn _and _ Puck's sides to be next to Rachel had _definitely_ been worth it. 


	10. One Man Drinking Games

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"Why are you doing this, Quinn? I don't understand."

Finn's voice was whiny and incessant, and Quinn was worried that she would be forced to slap him if he continued with this repetitive line of questioning much longer.

"I've told you over and over, Finn. We're done. That's it. I don't feel the desire to be with you anymore." She sighed heavily, realizing that she may be coming off a bit harsh. _He's asking for it though_, she reasoned. She turned directly to him and stared straight up into his eyes and said, "Don't pretend like you haven't seen this coming for a while now, Finn. We just don't work anymore."

She turned to leave when Finn called out, "Is this because of Rachel?" Quinn immediately came to a stop. "Is it because I kissed her? Because _she_ came onto _me_, you know. I wasn't the only one who was guilty. She practically _threw _herself at me."

Quinn turned back to Finn. _Was_ it because of Rachel? "No, Finn, it's _not_ because of Rachel." _Liar. Liar liar liar, _she repeated in her head. "It's because sometimes, people change – people grow apart. Some people aren't meant to last. Move on, Finn."

As she walked away, she heard Finn angrily pound his fist against his locker and release some kind of guttural shout. She flinched, but she kept moving. _That kid always did have anger management issues_, she mused nervously, quickening her steps as she pushed open the doors to exit the building.

* * *

Quinn hadn't made it very far – in fact, the school doors had only just closed behind her when she heard them forcefully thrown open again, banging off of the wall to either side of the entrance. She quickly turned one hundred and eighty degrees, only to find herself faced with a Finn who looked as if steam should be comically pouring out of his ears.

And yet, Quinn was finding the situation entirely sobering and not funny in the slightest.

"Finn," she started. "What do you want?" She tried to sound more confident than she was actually feeling. Finn was freakishly tall and substantially larger than Quinn. And he was legitimately scaring her. Her eyes flitted down to his hands – they were tightly balled into fists, his knuckles were white with the force he was exerting.

"This is unbelievable! I've been _nothing_ but good to you, Quinn! You can't just break up with me for no reason!" He was stalking towards her now. Quinn turned and began power-walking to her car. She reached into her duffel bag at her side, searching frantically for her keys – and attempting to make it appear as if she wasn't _frantically searching for her keys_.

"Don't walk away from me, Quinn!"

"Finn, you need to calm down. And you need to leave me alone. Just get over the fact that it really is as simple as – _I do not want to be with you anymore_! And, frankly, the way you're acting right now is making me believe I made the right decision!"

She got to her car and reached out to unlock the driver's side door. Finn, however, had other plans.

He grabbed her wrist tightly – tightly enough that she let out a shocked gasp – and her keys fell heavily to the ground. He turned her around to where her back was up against her car. He had dropped his grip on her wrist only to grab both of her forearms – tightly. She let out a slight hiss at the pain he was inflicting on her.

"You do _not_ get to do this to me, Quinn. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my reputation? First of all, I join glee club which is _bad enough_ – do you have any idea what kind of crap I get from the guys in the locker room? And _then_ I have to deal with the fact that you're the president of the _celibacy club_… The _**celibacy club**_, Quinn! Do you know how much of a chump that makes me look?" He shook her. He literally shook her, and her head bounced around – like a rag doll.

She knew he was strong. But she hadn't realized just how strong he really was. And now, he was fueled by anger and the prospect of potential humiliation.

Quinn tried to keep her face straight – she didn't want Finn to see just how scared she was in this moment.

"Look, Finn, I'm sorry that you have to deal with all of that. But I _never_ told you to join glee. And I never told you to ask out the president of the celibacy club! You did that all by yourself."

"Yeah! And you said yes! Why would you say 'yes' if you were just planning on breaking up with me? Were you planning on making me look stupid all along?"

"Finn!" she exclaimed, _seriously _frustrated at this point. "Why are you saying these things? Of course that was never my goal! You should know me better than that –"

"Oh, I _know_ you, Quinn Fabray. I know that you are the Queen _Bitch_ of this school. I know how you treat people. Even people who you're supposed to consider _friends_! You think I never noticed how horribly you treated Rachel? And she's even supposed to be a _teammate_."

Quinn found the strength within her to shove Finn back – it resulted in him losing his grip on her arms, but he surged back even more intimidating than before.

"Don't pretend that you know _anything_ about me and Rachel. We're friends now, Finn."

"Yeah, and you're breaking up with me! Wow, things change _super_ fast, don't they?"

He was advancing on her again, and Quinn was sure that he was going to hit her. In the face, probably. She closed her eyes and even went so far as to lift her hand to shield her face.

Suddenly, someone called out from a few cars away, "HUDSON!"

Quinn dared to open one of her eyes. She saw Finn – with his hands still clenched into fists, semi-raised in front of him – and she saw none other than her best friends, Santana and Brittany. They had both broken out into a run at this point. Santana got to Quinn's car first, and she immediately placed herself – hands planted _firmly_ on her hips – between Quinn and Finn.

"What do we have here, Hudson? Suddenly decided that it's ok to beat on _girls_?" Santana sneered.

"Get out of here, _Lopez_, this is none of your business," Finn growled back – the rage still hadn't subsided from his eyes.

Brittany had pulled Quinn to her – she was holding her, shielding as much of her body as she could from Finn. She had wrapped her arms around Quinn, and Quinn had flinched noticeably as Brittany's hand came in contact with the already-forming bruises that Finn had left behind. They were monstrous – just like his frying-pan sized paws.

Santana noticed this interaction between Brittany and Quinn, and she started becoming enraged herself.

"Guess what, Frankenteen? When you _physically injure_ my _best friend_, it _becomes_ my business." She started taking steps towards Finn, causing him to backup as she advanced. "First of all, I think Figgins will be interested to know that Brittany and I caught you _assaulting_ a student on school grounds." Finn scoffed. "Second, I _know_ that Coach Sylvester will be positively _thrilled_ that you have _injured_ not only her Head Cheerio – but the best damn cheerleader on the entire squad." Finn visibly gulped. "And we'll finish this off with a quick text to Puck – who will inform _all_ of the football team – that good ole Finn Hudson likes to _hit girls_. I'm sure that they will have quite a bit to say about that, won't they, Hudson?" Finn shuddered – none of the guys on them team were ok with that. Sure, if Finn had managed to impregnate Quinn or something, he'd probably get high-fives all around. But hitting her? He'd be a pariah.

"Ok, I get it…"

"No, I'm not sure you do," Santana replied. "You fucked up, and you fucked up _big time_. You're going to apologize to Quinn, you're going to act _civilized_ and not like some freakishly tall Neanderthal like you have been today, and you're going to keep your whining to yourself. Or else I tell Figgins. And Sue. And Puck. I don't have to lay a finger on you to destroy you. But if you lay another finger on her, I _will_ do whatever it takes to make your existence a complete nightmare. Do we understand each other?"

A final surge of anger seemed to flow through Finn – Santana could see it in his eyes, and she braced herself to do whatever it took to keep him away from Brittany and Quinn. But the anger seemed to leave as quickly as it had come.

He hung his head in defeat and shame. "I understand," he mumbled quietly.

"I'm sorry, what? I didn't quite hear you. Was there an _apology_ in there somewhere?" She glared pointedly, her voice practically dripping with attitude.

"I said that I understand. It won't happen again. Quinn," he moved to take a step forward, towards where Quinn was standing, sheltered behind Brittany.

Santana, however, was having none of it. She put a firm hand on Finn's chest, stepping in between him and the other girls again. "Nah uh, Frankenteen. Say what you have to say. From here."

Finn gritted his teeth before addressing Quinn again. "Quinn, I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. But," he continued desperately. "Can't you understand why I'm so upset about this? The guys on the team –"

"OK!" Santana interrupted. "Clearly you never mastered the Art of the Apology. Get out of here, Finn, before I _make_ you."

He sent one last glare in Santana's direction before turning abruptly on his heel and storming off to his own car.

Santana secretly hoped that he would trip over his oversized feet. He didn't. She shrugged.

She turned back to her best friends. Quinn's eyes were closed, and she had her arms wrapped around Brittany's waist with her head resting on the taller blonde's shoulder. Santana walked over to them, placing her left hand over Brittany's – which was situated on Quinn's side.

"Quinn?" Brittany questioned softly. Quinn didn't make any response, nor did she give any indication that she would be moving anytime soon.

A single tear managed to find its way from behind her right eyelid. Santana reached up and cupped Quinn's cheek gently, wiping away the offending tear in the process.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here fast enough, Q," Santana said softly, her hand still firmly in its place on Quinn's cheek. As Santana said this, Quinn's eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked at Santana with a sad expression on her face. "I told you I would never let anything like that happen to you. Not again, not after him." She dropped her hand from Quinn's face and lightly – ever so gently – ran her fingers over the bruises on Quinn's upper arm. "I'm so, so sorry I didn't get here in time…"

All Santana could think about was the last time she was too late – the last time she had failed to keep harm from coming to her best friend.

_

* * *

It was the night before the girls were going to be starting their 8__th__ grade year. Santana and Brittany were sleeping over at Quinn's house – it was a tradition that they had been sharing since they had all become friends in 1__st__ grade. The night before their first day of school each year, they would all stay over at one of the other girl's houses. This year, it was Quinn's house._

_The girls were watching television in the living room, and Quinn's parents were in her father's study. Russell Fabray had consumed just a bit too much scotch. And by 'a bit too much,' it should suffice to say that he was practically incoherent. Judy Fabray would have helped him up to their bedroom and away from the eyes and ears of the young girls in the room next door – but she had also consumed an impressive amount of the finely aged, expensive drink._

_Back in the living room, Brittany accidentally spilled her cup of fruit punch. Quinn winced. Brittany started apologizing profusely, but Quinn waved her off. "It's no problem, B. I'll just go get some paper towels."_

"_Yeah, B," Santana reiterated. "We'll make the carpet as good as new again." The girls all grinned at each other, and Santana and Quinn trudged into the kitchen to grab some cleaning supplies to soak up and, hopefully, remove the stain from the pristine, white carpet._

_On their way back to the living room, they passed Russell's study. He saw what they were carrying and called out to Quinn, "Quinn! What is all that for? Are you making a mess in there?"_

_Quinn immediately shooed Santana to go ahead to the living room to try and start soaking up the fruit punch. She turned to her dad. "N-nothing, Daddy. We're just watching TV."_

_Russell huffed and pushed himself up out of his well-worn, leather chair before advancing on Quinn. He grabbed her wrist and began to stumble into the living room with her small figure trailing helplessly behind him._

_When he saw Santana on her hands and knees, pressing vigorously on the blossoming red stain – he snapped, turning on Quinn._

"_Did you do that? Did you do that to my carpet? After everything your mother and I do for you, that's how you repay us – you ungrateful little brat!" He drew back his hand before allowing it to swing forward and catch Quinn around the jaw._

_Before she even realized what she was doing, Santana was on her feet and was shoving – with all the might her tiny 12-year old body could muster – Russell Fabray away from his daughter. Brittany also rushed over – but she rushed to Quinn, gingerly taking Quinn's hands in her own and leading her away from the scene and into the kitchen for some ice._

_Santana stood staring up at Russell, silently daring him to make a move after the retreating blondes. He didn't. Instead, he just chugged back the rest of his scotch – which had remained steadfastly in his left hand throughout the entire ordeal, impressively – he hadn't spilled a drop._

_Santana watched him stumble back to his study and slide the door closed behind him. She entered the kitchen and lightly traced her fingers over Quinn's jaw – she had wiped away the tears from her best friend's cheeks and had wrapped both of the girls in a tight embrace. That night, they all held each other in one mass of bodies in the middle of Quinn's bed. At some point throughout the night, each of them cried – Santana and Brittany, for Quinn; and Quinn, for her father._

_The next morning, Judy Fabray gave her youngest daughter her first real lesson on the application of makeup. She had, after all, a lot of practice._

* * *

Santana remembers the look of shock and disbelief that was etched on Quinn's features in that moment before Russell Fabray's hand had come in contact with her face. She had vowed to never allow that to happen to Quinn again – or Brittany, for that matter (though her parents were much cooler than Quinn's anyway). Seeing the bruises on Quinn's arms alone was enough to infuse a sense of failure within Santana.

Quinn knew that look too well. She released one of her arms from around Brittany's waist and held it out to Santana, pulling the girl into a three-way hug. "It's not your fault, San. I know you feel like it is, but I promise it isn't. It wasn't then, and it's not now." Quinn laid her cheek against the top of Santana's head. "You girls are the best friends I could have ever hoped for."

At this, Brittany smiled – she leaned forward and kissed both Quinn and Santana on the cheek.

* * *

Rachel left the auditorium about an hour after school was over. Brad had been kind enough to stay behind and work on 'Maybe This Time' with her; the song was already in her repertoire, but after videoing it for her latest MySpace slot, she had realized that there were aspects of it on which she _had _to improve.

She stopped by her locker, grabbing her books for the weekend. She had a calculus test on Monday that she was _not _looking forward to studying for – she was _seriously _bad at calculus.

She exited the school and wrapped her scarf more firmly around her neck. The wind was blowing quite hard, and it seemed to be finding all of the crevices in her pea coat – effectively chilling her to the bone.

As she approached her car and tossed her backpack in her backseat, she noticed the three Cheerios on the other side of the parking lot. She got in her car and started it before driving over and stopping behind what she recognized as Quinn's car.

"Hey girls," she hesitantly said as she climbed out of her car.

"Oh, hi Rachel!" Brittany exclaimed happily, a smile lighting up her face. She unwrapped herself from Santana and Quinn and skipped over to Rachel as she joined them. She hugged Rachel tightly and then placed her hand on Rachel's baby bump. Rachel's eyebrows shot up at the gesture. Brittany asked, "Is it kicking yet?"

Rachel laughed. "No, Brittany. The baby isn't big enough for that yet. Also, you should know this since you're helping me compile a list of possible baby names – the baby is _a girl!_"

At this news, Brittany's jaw dropped open and she gave Rachel another huge hug. "That's awesome, Rach!" Brittany then jumped over to Santana and Quinn. "Rachel's having a girl!"

Rachel caught Quinn's eye then. The other girl was smiling at Rachel, but Rachel could tell that there was something more behind the smile – her eyes were incredibly sad, and it was making Rachel's heart ache.

Santana nodded at Rachel, a small smile also gracing her features. "Congratulations, Berry."

"Thank you, Santana."

Brittany continued to jump around excitedly. Rachel's mind kicked into gear. She came to a decision which she rationalized with the fact that, one – she needed to find out what was wrong with Quinn – two – she desperately needed any extra help she could get in calculus – and, three – she really did think it would be fun to try and pick out baby names.

"I was wondering," she began. The three Cheerios immediately all focused on her; Brittany stopped jumping around. "Would you girls be interested in spending the night at my house? I really would love to talk baby names… But I also seriously need some calculus help, if, perhaps, Santana and Quinn would be so kind as to help me in that area?"

Brittany instantly turned her puppy dog eyes on Santana – the girl was a goner.

"Sure, Berry. Brittany and I will come over. Q?"

Rachel saw Santana reach out and gently lay her hand on top of Quinn's, questioning the girl silently. Quinn quickly locked gazes with Santana before turning back to Rachel.

"Of course, Rachel. I'd love to come over."

Rachel beamed at the girls in front of her. "Great! It's settled, then." Rachel hastily texted Santana and Quinn her address so they could find her house, and then she set off to get ready for the sleepover.

The first sleepover Rachel Berry had ever hosted.

Santana and Brittany each gave Quinn a final hug before heading to Santana's car, then to their respective houses to get what they needed for Rachel's.

Quinn climbed into her car and sighed. Rachel hadn't seen her bruises because of the way she had been standing with Santana in front of most of her body. She didn't want the girl to see her bruises at the sleepover, either. _Well_, she decided, _I'll just wear long sleeves tonight. No biggie._

Despite her emotional afternoon confrontation with Finn, Quinn was allowing herself to feel blatant giddiness at the fact that she was going to spend the night at Rachel Berry's house. Things were definitely looking up. 


	11. With Arms Wide Open

_A/N: Admittedly, it's been a long time since I've had a 'sleepover.' o.O I shall do my best at not making this cliché, corny, or insufferable._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

As Rachel was driving home, she had to carefully remind herself that '_Speeding is illegal, Rachel. Slow down! It's not just your life.' _It still took a great deal of effort to gain enough control over herself to arrive home in a safe and timely manner.

When she finally arrived home, the first thing she did was seek out her dads. It turned out that only Brendon was home. Apparently, some shifts had moved around at work, and Marcus was going to be on a double-shift all-nighter. This momentarily caused Rachel to worry for her Daddy – sleep, after all, was a very important factor in any healthy lifestyle. Without it, how could a person (let alone an emergency room doctor) be expected to function to their full ability? Brendon calmly reassured her that her Daddy would be fine and that she most definitely should not worry so much.

Rachel then proceeded to recite the speech she had planned on her way home from school – the speech discussed how important the fostering of relationships during the teenage years was and how Brendon would be contributing to a squandered potential social life if he didn't allow Rachel's (new) friends to come over to spend the night.

Needless to say, Brendon really didn't have an issue with the entire matter in the slightest.

"I'm actually incredibly tired, it's been a long week. Here's $40," he said while laying the cash on the table. "I'm going to annex myself upstairs – probably take a long, hot bath and turn in early with my newest Sookie Stackhouse novel."

Rachel pulled a face at her Dad's admission concerning his latest reading material fad, but hugged him anyway before jumping up and down excitedly.

"I know I don't have to tell you to behave, Rachel. You're a good girl." Rachel just smiled brilliantly at her Dad before reassuring him that, yes, they would all be well-behaved.

"How much trouble can a pregnant 16-year old get into anyway, Dad?" Rachel teased. Brendon replied by appearing pensive for moment and then mercilessly tickling Rachel until she nearly fell to the ground in a heap.

Rachel's phone vibrating from the kitchen table distracted them.

She quickly crossed the room to pick up her phone. Quinn had texted her.

* * *

Quinn made it from school to her home fairly quickly. Her parents were easy to convince when she asked permission to sleep over at a friend's – they had already started drinking.

The more difficult task was finding a long-sleeved shirt suitable for sleeping in. She dug around in her dresser and finally found a non-Christmas-themed long-sleeve shirt (a challenge). It was cotton, red, and a v-neck – very comfy. It would be perfect. She went ahead and slipped into the shirt along with some black soffee shorts – she easily justified the fact that she was already in her pajamas by pointing out to herself that the shirt and shorts provided more coverage than the Cheerios uniform she had been wearing anyway.

She tried not to flinch as she pulled the shirt down over her head – even feeling the weight of it against her bruises was causing discomfort. She felt a surge of sadness that Finn had it within himself to treat her that way, inflicting such damage that even the shirt resting on her skin was hurting her. And then she just felt anger – which she tried to ignore.

As she was about to leave her bedroom, she remembered to grab her backpack – it had her calculus materials in at and, apparently, they would be needed.

It didn't take her long to find Rachel's house. The address had sounded familiar, and Quinn realized that Rachel lived on the same street as the previous Head Cheerio – Stacey Johnson. Johnson had actually transferred to a different school after Sue had promoted Quinn to Head Cheerio and demoted Stacey to the bottom of the pyramid – apparently, she had made the horrific mistake of bad-mouthing Coach's techniques to the rest of the squad. If there was one thing Sue would _never_ stand for, it was mutiny. Quinn was in a prime position to take over, and it was easily accepted by the rest of the Cheerios when Sue made if official.

Quinn pulled her car up alongside the curb. She saw Rachel's car, so she knew for certain that she was at the right house (plus, Rachel's license plate read: INGÉNUE, a dead giveaway).

Uncertain as to how she should proceed, Quinn pulled out her phone and sent a text to Rachel.

**Quinn: **Hey INGÉNUE. Is it safe to come in? Or will I be facing The Inquisition from your dads? I could potentially stall until they go to bed. Let me know.

She fiddled with her radio for a while, waiting on Rachel to reply. When her phone vibrated, she quickly opened the text.

**Rachel: **I convinced Dad to save The Inquisition for Sleepover #2, so the coast is clear! (i.e., he's already safely tucked away upstairs with a hot bath and Sookie Stackhouse) Come on in, Quinn.

Quinn couldn't help the smile that blossomed across her face. She grabbed her overnight bag and backpack and made her way up the walkway to Rachel's front door, eagerly anticipating whatever the night was going to hold for the girls.

* * *

After Santana and Brittany arrived (both already in their sleepwear of t-shirts and shorts as well), they ordered pizza and then spread out in the living room. Santana was in complete awe of the Berry's movie collection.

"It's categorized by genre," Rachel had said.

"No freaking way, Berry," Santana had replied, an expression of complete childlike wonder on her face as she perused shelf after shelf. "Oh my gosh, who is the horror movie fan in your family? You easily have every single one of the top 20 horror movies of all time. Maybe the top 50 – unfortunately, I wouldn't know. I haven't seen them all." At this, Santana began to pout (_adorably_, Brittany thought).

"My Daddy – the one who is working tonight – is a huge fan. It's rather creepy. Dad and I tease him about it all the time. And he normally has to end up watching any new additions to his collection on his own. I, for one, am a complete and utter _wuss_ when it comes to watching scary movies. I can't handle it. Especially sleeping in my room alone." Rachel visibly shuddered. "It's _not_ cool. I get so easily freaked out."

"Perfect!" Brittany exclaimed. Rachel's head snapped to the overenthusiastic girl immediately, wondering what the heck was so 'perfect' about Rachel being scared out of her mind. Brittany noticed and clarified, "Well, you have lots of scary movies. Santana likes watching scary movies because it gives us a reason to cuddle since _I'm_ scared of them, too. So right now, Santana wants to watch a scary movie." Santana smacked her hand to her forehead. Brittany continued, "Rachel, you normally get scared because you have to sleep alone, but you'll have all three of us with you tonight. And you can cuddle with Quinn since Santana and I are gonna be cuddling by ourselves. So really, everyone gets to be all cuddly and happy!" Brittany finished by excitedly clapping her hands together.

Santana, her hand still pressed against her forehead, proceeded to mutter select phrases in Spanish under her breath. Rachel, her mouth hanging openly comically, was darting her eyes back and forth between the ecstatic Brittany and the embarrassed Santana – her eyes then shifted to Quinn. Quinn's only response was to lightly shrug her shoulders in Rachel's direction as if to say, '_Yeah, it really has always been this way. And yeah, they've been sleeping together for quite a while now._'

"Alrighty then," Rachel broke the silence that was quickly becoming awkward (for some people in the room). "Santana, I guess you can do the honors of picking out a movie for us to watch. Since the evidence has been presented as to why a horror film would be beneficial to _all_ parties involved," here, Rachel's eyes shifted and then remained glued to Quinn's. "I guess you should go ahead and pick something that is _incredibly_ frightening."

At Rachel's last words, Quinn found herself experiencing an almost painfully-wide grin on her face. Rachel definitely hadn't shied away from the cuddling that Brittany had implied was going to take place. In fact, Rachel's pointed stare was sending all kinds of butterflies fluttering around in Quinn's stomach.

_It's going to be a good night_, she thought.

Rachel, on the other hand, was mentally patting herself on the back for her forwardness. _Way to plant the seed, Rachel. Way to plant the seed…_

"Ok," Santana huffed, finally removing her hand from her face. "This one should be good. Puck has told me that it's epic before, I've just never slept over in a house where people _actually_ owned it." She tossed the DVD to Rachel who proceeded to insert it into the extravagant (and therefore complicated-looking) entertainment system.

The title screen for Carrie came up, and Quinn found that it was _her_ turn to smack herself in the forehead.

"I would prefer something with Mia Kirshner in it," Rachel sighed. "But I guess this will do for now."

"What the heck is Mia Kirshner in that's worth watching?" Quinn asked, hesitating only briefly before adding, "Besides The L Word."

"We have The Black Dahlia, she's in that. I heard it's rather good."

"If by 'rather good' you mean rather _**boring**_!" Santana interjected passionately. "And since when do you watch The L Word, Q?" She asked this last bit with a mischievous grin.

"Since you and Brittany left seasons 1, 2, and 3 in my room. _Totally_ inconspicuously."

"Santana said we were trying to drop a hint!" Brittany exclaimed proudly.

Santana growled playfully before jumping on Brittany (seated in the recliner) and tickling her with fervor. Rachel laughed and swatted Santana playfully on the ass as she passed her (eliciting a "Whoa! Watch it, Berry!") before plopping down on the sofa next to Quinn.

_Right _next to Quinn.

_Yeah,_ Quinn thought. _It's going to be a good night._


	12. The Weakness in Me

_A/N: __Carrie__ was the weirdest fucking movie I've ever seen in my life. I feel like, if the four girls I'm writing in this fic were __**real**__ people, I would sincerely have to apologize for making them watch it. If you've never seen it, don't._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

It wasn't even twenty minutes into Carrie when Rachel started muttering, "I'm so glad I have two gay dads, I'm so glad I have two gay dads…"

"Berry," Santana muttered from her spot in the recliner, nestled close to Brittany. "Stop your whining. Nothing has even _happened_ yet."

Rachel's only response was to whimper slightly and increase the pressure of her hold on Quinn's leg.

Because, yes, she was curled up on the couch in the fetal position with her head on Quinn's upper thigh, and her hands were wrapped tightly around said thigh. Quinn was sitting up with her legs stretched out in front of her, feet resting on the coffee table.

Rachel was holding on for dear life. She had _said_ that she was a wuss and was unaware as to how Santana had so easily forgotten that claim already. _Oh yes_, she thought, _I know why she's already forgotten – Brittany's hands have been out of sight since before I went and made everyone popcorn… It only took them 5 minutes to engage in inappropriate behavior in my living room!_

Rachel was driven from her thoughts when she felt Quinn's hand on her side. The blonde leaned downed, positioning her lips just above Rachel's ear, and whispered, "It's ok, Rach. I'm not going anywhere. And Santana and Brittany? They won't make fun of you for being scared. They're probably going to be completely incoherent before anything really intense happens anyway." She drug her hand – in an achingly slow movement, Rachel noted – away from Rachel's side and back to the popcorn bowl.

Rachel's breath had caught in her throat from the first moment that Quinn's hand had graced her side through her thin t-shirt she normally wore to sleep in. As Quinn's hand had moved away, the sensation of fingers ghosting against her clothed side had caused Rachel's eyelids to flutter closed. The shudder that coursed through her body at the loss of contact was involuntary, but Rachel wouldn't take it back, even if she had been able to.

Because immediately, Quinn's hand was back in place, and she was leaning over Rachel again. Rachel couldn't see the worry etched in her eyes – she could hear it in her voice. "Are you cold?" Quinn asked.

Momentarily tongue-tied by the sweet exhalation of breath against her ear, Rachel floundered. _Yes. No. Maybe._ "N-No," she stuttered out. She bit her lip and scrunched her eyebrows together. _Wrong answer, Rachel!_

"No?" Quinn questioned.

_A second chance!_ Rachel thought. "Yeah," was her reply this time. "I'm a little cold." _But I'm completely unwilling to move from this position to do anything about it._

Quinn didn't verbally respond. Instead, she reached over and pulled the throw off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Rachel's body.

"Better?" Quinn asked.

All of Rachel's gathered willpower gave her the strength to do one thing – nod meekly in an incredibly small gesture of affirmation.

Unfortunately, this movement of her face against the skin of Quinn's thigh caused a whole new maelstrom of issues for Rachel.

_Oh my gosh_, Rachel's mind went into overdrive. _Quinn's skin is quite possibly the softest thing I have ever felt in my life! And that includes the beautiful cashmere scarf Dad got for me last Hanukkah… _Before she could stop herself – before Rachel's brain could catch up to her hands – she found her grip loosening on Quinn's leg. Her right hand began _caressing_ Quinn's exposed flesh. Rachel may have even caught herself _nuzzling_ softly into the wonderfully smooth skin beneath her face. _Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh_, Rachel frantically thought as her mind caught up to the situation. She immediately stilled all movement. Without any notice to the other girl, Rachel sat straight upright, her eyes immediately seeking Quinn's in an attempt to explain away her actions.

But she couldn't catch Quinn's eyes. In fact, Quinn's eyes were closed. And she was biting her lip gently between her teeth. _Well, that's what I would call incredibly sexy, _Rachel thought to herself. Rachel's right hand was still on top of Quinn's thigh, so she gave her leg a light squeeze before whispering, "Quinn?"

Quinn's eyes fluttered – _fluttered _– open, and Rachel couldn't help the small grin that found its way onto her lips at the motion. Quinn proceeded to blink a couple of times before replying, "Yeah, Rach? Is something wrong?"

Rachel was temporarily unsure of what to say – she assumed that Quinn was fully aware of what had just happened – what with Rachel's hands practically _molesting_ Quinn's leg; therefore, since Quinn seemed to be pretending otherwise, this made Rachel assume that she should _also_ pretend like nothing had happened.

"Uhh no. Nothing's wrong at all," Rachel said quickly. "I just didn't want to hurt your leg from squeezing so hard." Quinn just grinned slightly and shook her head.

"You're not hurting me at all, Rachel." _You'd have to be a lot rougher than that_, Quinn's mind provided for her.

"Alright, just thought I would check," Rachel said before laying back down. This time, she purposefully laid her head closer to Quinn's stomach – thus providing herself with ample thigh in front of her face to stare at. _Her skin really is beautiful_, Rachel thought. Again, as of their own volition, her fingers slowly made their way back to Quinn's leg. She lightly touched her hand to the skin – first each finger, one at a time, and then the palm of her hand rested flush against Quinn's thigh. Being close enough to Quinn's stomach, Rachel felt (more than heard) Quinn take a very deep breath and release it slowly.

The movie played on. Rachel's _fingers_ played on. She found herself more involved with the skin beneath her fingertips, rather than the horrible manipulations going on onscreen. As it became vastly more apparent that Quinn was planning on doing _nothing_ to stop Rachel from touching her, Rachel's movements became more liberal. A surge of happiness flowed through Rachel's body as she felt Quinn's own hand underneath the throw – beginning to lightly mimic Rachel's movements on Rachel's exposed arm. Within 30 minutes or so, Rachel was sure that she had mapped every inch of the skin on Quinn's right thigh with her touch. _If only I could have full access to the rest of her body_, Rachel thought.

And then she realized what she had thought. And she froze. Quinn's fingers continued to move for a second or two after Rachel had stopped, and then her hand stilled as well. Quinn moved her hand up to Rachel's face instead, and she began to lightly brush hair back from her face, running her fingers through it smoothly, soothingly. "Everything ok?" she barely whispered. But Rachel heard.

Rachel heard, and Rachel realized with a start that the answer was 'no.' No, she was not ok. She was laying on a girl's lap, and – not that it mattered that this was a girl who had tortured her for years – she had realized with a stunning moment of clarity that she wanted _more_ than to simply lay on her lap. She _wanted_ Quinn. The fact that this revelation was so stunning to Rachel also confused her – Rachel had been the unkind possessor of a _crush_ on Quinn for _months_ now. When Finn had first told Rachel that he was dating Quinn, she had been surprised – but only surprised because, well, that meant Quinn was off the market. And (probably) straight. Rachel had even gone so far as to attempt the Seduction of Finn in order to cause dissension between Finn and Quinn so that she would be afforded the opportuntity to pursue Quinn herself.

_Obviously_, Rachel noted sadly to herself, _it didn't work. _Then again, Rachel's pregnancy had thrown a wrench in her plans as well. She wasn't desirable to Quinn before – there was _no way_ that Quinn would want anything to do with her after she found out that Rachel was _pregnant_.

_And yet, here we are_, Rachel confirmed to herself. _If, after everything else, it's possible for Quinn and I to be friends – to be laying here on this couch and to have forgiven and forgotten past discretions – why wouldn't it be possible for Quinn and I to be more?_ But there were several glaringly obvious reasons to Rachel as to why things just couldn't possible work out between them.

One – Quinn was incredibly religious and thus potentially harbored strong objections to same-sex relationships.

This first point, Rachel discounted by reminding herself about The L Word mentions earlier in the night. In fact, Quinn hadn't seemed adverse to the show at all. And the show contained lesbian sex – _lots_ of lesbian sex.

Two – Quinn was the President of the Celibacy Club.

When she thought of this second point, Rachel immediately chastised herself. _It's not all about __**sex**__, Rachel! _But then she faltered. She should have known better. In her pregnant condition with her hormones playing numerous tricks on her, thinking about sex was _not_ the best way to handle the current situation. It most certainly did not help in the clearing of her mind. Quite the opposite, in fact…

Three – Quite possibly the most important issue… Quinn was taken. She had Finn. Finn had Quinn. Rachel had a baby growing in her stomach and a one-night stand that she couldn't remember to save her life. If she even wanted to remember it…

And then Rachel's mind stopped making lists and testing theorems in her mind. She decided that it was legitimately ok to _want something_. She could _want_ Quinn. In fact, she could go so far as to say that it was ok to _pursue_ Quinn. _Maybe my mistake was simply making advances on the wrong person in the relationship, _Rachel thought. _Maybe by showing my true affections to Quinn, I can win her heart. _Rachel sighed. _Maybe._

"Rachel?" Quinn leaned down towards Rachel, clearly intent on receiving an answer this time. "I can practically _feel_ your mind turning. What's wrong?"

Rachel rolled over on her back, head still placed firmly in Quinn's lap. She smiled up at Quinn, suddenly feeling more self-assured and confident than ever. She took Quinn's hand that had previously been brushing through her hair and brought it to her chest, wrapped firmly in Rachel's own hand. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Quinn. I promise, everything is more than ok."

Quinn smiled back tenderly, her face mere inches from Rachel's own.

"Can you guys keep it down over there? I'm trying to focus on the raging fire that is ravaging their prom. K thanks," Santana muttered.

"San," Brittany giggled. "You're not watching the movie at all. We've been making out for the last 15 minutes."

Santana sighed, and Quinn made a whipping sound and motion with her wrist in Santana's direction.

"Oh please," Santana responded, attitude heavily lacing her voice – as usual. "Look at yourself, Fabray, and just try and tell me that you're not _already_ planning on being completely whipped yourself."

Quinn's head snapped down to Rachel's immediately, an almost guilty look on her face. And then both girls burst out into laughter.

_Oh yeah_, Rachel thought. _I think I have a shot at this. _


	13. On Fire

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Rachel's eyes slowly opened. The sensation she was feeling was new – different. Not something she had felt before. Surreal. The only sound she could hear was her own breathing. And then she felt warmth on her neck. A thrilling chill of sensuality shot through her body, she tilted her head away in order to more fully experience whatever pleasure was inflicting itself on her neck.

It stopped. She turned her head to look, and Quinn's face was mere inches from hers. The blonde's hand reached up, gently caressing Rachel's cheek. Her hand continued down Rachel's neck – to her collarbone and past it. Quinn's fingertips passed between the soft swell of Rachel's breasts. Rachel shuddered, placed her hand on top of Quinn's as it continued to move lower.

"Let's go to my room," Rachel said. She heard her voice as if she had been speaking inside her head and not to Quinn. But Quinn heard. She nodded.

Rachel stood. Quinn followed. As Rachel passed the recliner, she saw that Santana and Brittany were passed out – their foreheads touching, their fingers intertwined on top of the blanket that covered them. Peaceful in their slumber.

Padding up the stairs, the sound of their feet on the hardwood floors seemed to echo a hundred fold in Rachel's eardrums. Her hand was behind her back, Quinn's fingers threaded tightly within her grasp.

She pushed open her bedroom door, headed straight for her bed. Rachel sat down on the edge, and Quinn planted herself firmly between the brunette's legs. Immediately, Quinn's fingers thread through Rachel's hair – almost roughly, definitely lovingly. Rachel moaned.

Quinn's fingers continued to pull against Rachel's scalp, down her neck and her back – leaving a trail of delicious, perfect scratch marks in their wake. Rachel arched forward, begging with her body for more than just the touch of Quinn's fingertips. Everywhere.

In one swift movement, Quinn removed Rachel's shirt. Rachel reciprocated. Quinn wrapped her hands around Rachel's ass, lifted her – moved her farther up on the bed. Then she climbed on top of the smaller girl, mindful of her stomach. Quinn resumed placing hot, languid, open-mouth kisses to Rachel's neck. Again, Rachel turned her head – allowing better access. Again, she moaned.

Quinn's mouth moved lower and lower – ghosting over Rachel's bra-clad breasts. She lavished her small baby bump with hundreds and thousands of butterfly kisses. Down to Rachel's naval. The tiny brunette almost couldn't handle it all – the sensations, the emotions, the overwhelming need to have _all_ of Quinn…

She lightly placed the palm of her hand on Quinn's cheek, drawing the other girl back up. Quinn ever so gently rested her body on top of Rachel's. They looked into each other's eyes – into each other's very souls – and then their lips met.

Every groove of lip, every particle of flesh, every nerve ending was lit up, on fire, bursting. Rachel had never felt anything like this before. Quinn had never made someone feel like this before. Hesitantly, Rachel's lips parted and her tongue gingerly touched Quinn's top lip. Quinn responded in kind.

_Why do I feel as if I'm about to explode?_ Rachel pondered. And then she became too consumed in their painfully-slow kiss to worry about the 'if's of the situation.

Quinn's hands blazed fiery paths up and down Rachel's sides. On her cheek. In her hair. Down to her leg, encouraging Rachel to lift it and wrap it around Quinn's hips.

And then suddenly, their kiss was broken. Rachel hadn't even come up yet to gasp for air. And the kiss was gone. Quinn's lips weren't on hers anymore.

Instead, Quinn's lips were by Rachel's ear.

"_Is this hot enough for you, Rachel_?" Quinn's breath caressed Rachel's ear and her body shook violently in response.

She nodded slightly, the word "_yes_" slipping mindlessly from her lips. _Yes, yes yes yes, _she felt like shouting it out, over and over and then over again. But the girls were sleeping downstairs. Her father was sleeping in his bedroom. She couldn't risk waking anyone. She couldn't risk being interrupted.

"_Are you sure_?" Quinn questioned again.

"_Yes,_" was the only response Rachel had for the other girl – in that moment, Rachel thought that it was the only response she had ever had, would ever have… The only response she had ever known or ever been programmed to possess the ability to speak. "_Yes._"

Quinn's lips began their sumptuous path around Rachel's neck. The brunette's head simply lolled from side to side as necessary. Any higher motor function was not optional at this point. Quinn made it back up to Rachel's other ear. She lightly licked her earlobe, pulled it into her mouth and sucked on it gently.

Rachel almost came undone.

"_Can I taste you_?" Quinn whispered, grinding her hips down against Rachel's core. Rachel's eyes rolled back in her head, her body arched – her mouth was dry and she found herself incapable of forming a coherent reply. Every fiber in her body was lit up, pulsing with fire and desire – pooling deep, below her stomach. She managed to nod.

Quinn smiled and kissed her on the lips, the nose, the cheek. Lower, lower, lower. As Rachel lifted her hips, helping Quinn to remove her pants she had worn for the sleepover, she asked – more to herself than to Quinn or any higher power that may have been listening in or observing their behaviors – "_Is this a dream_?"

Quinn never ceased her movements, but she detached her lips – she had been sucking and licking lightly at the line just below the top of Rachel's underwear – and quietly whispered, "_Yes_."

Rachel's eyelids snapped open and she pulled Quinn back up to her, crashing their lips together in a fierce, passionate kiss. Their tongues joined the fray. They battled for dominance. No one won. It was perfection.

"_Say my name, Rachel,_" Quinn said. The words became lost in Rachel's mouth. "_Say it_," Quinn demanded.

Rachel nodded, still trying to find the speech capacity.

"_Say it_," Quinn demanded again – she emphasized her words by pushing her hips firmly against Rachel again, eliciting a moan in response that impeccably demonstrated Rachel's vocal range.

"_Quinn_," Rachel replied. "_Quinn…"_

* * *

"Quinn," Rachel murmured under her breath.

Quinn was a bit shocked. Rachel had been asleep for a while now. In fact, she had missed pretty much every last ounce of the dramatic buildup and culmination of horrific events in the movie. And for the past 10 minutes or so, the brunette had been twitching and moving and _moaning_ at times. Quinn had heard her say the word "yes" at least a dozen times.

And she just said Quinn's name.

Quinn wasn't slow by any means. She was fully capable of putting the clues together. Rachel was dreaming – about her. She had to admit… She was flattered.

Unfortunately, her flattery wasn't going to protect Rachel from the incessant teasing that was sure to come from Santana and the blatant honesty that Brittany was sure to exude once each of the other girls realized exactly what it was that was going on. So Quinn began to gently try and draw Rachel out of her dream-laden sleep. She softly cupped Rachel's face with her hand, turning the brunette's head towards her own. She called her name ("Rachel…Rachel, wake up") ever so quietly, not wanting to draw attention from the couple in the recliner. She traced her fingertips up and down Rachel's arm, and the diva began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open – _Oh my gosh, that was sexy_, Quinn couldn't help but think.

"Hi," Quinn whispered softly.

"Quinn," Rachel replied.

Quinn became confused… Rachel looked sad. She looked disappointed. She looked like someone had just stolen her new puppy away from her.

Quinn kind of hated herself for making Rachel feel any of those things.

"Are… Are you ok?" Quinn hesitantly asked. _Please be ok_, she thought. _Please be ok – I'm so beyond ever making you feel anything other than that._

"Y-yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I get so tired so early nowadays," Rachel sighed, placing her hand over her eyes.

Quinn became distressed, not being able to see those chocolate orbs. So she placed her hand on top of Rachel's, lacing their fingers together gently, and moved Rachel's hand down to her chest with Quinn's placed firmly on top of it.

"Don't be sorry," Quinn pleaded. Maybe she meant more than just the movie. _Don't be sorry for whatever it is you saw. Please don't be sorry for whatever it is that you felt – whatever it is that you __**feel**__. _Quinn's eyes began to water and she blinked furiously. _If you're sorry, that means I have to be sorry. Just don't be sorry._

"How did the movie end?" Rachel questioned.

"Oh," Quinn started. "Well, everyone pretty much lived happily ever after," Quinn lied, her voice taking on a more confident tone.

"What?" Santana provided from a few feet away. "Obviously you didn't watch it at all, Fabray."

"I watched it long enough to know that it took **forever** for that bucket of pig's blood to actually _fall_. It was completely unrealistic. At least when they copied that scene in the movie Superstar, it happened in just a few seconds. Not like, 5 minutes."

"Please never again admit out loud that you've seen that movie," Santana provided. "Please. Never again." Though she spoke with conviction, she spoke quietly. The blonde in her arms had dozed off as the credits started playing, her head nestled snugly under Santana's chin.

"Oh please, like you haven't seen it," Quinn scoffed.

Rachel giggled and sat up. Quinn reeled at the loss of contact.

"Santana," Rachel began. "Would you like me to show you to the guest bedroom? You and Brittany are more than welcome to share it."

Santana looked momentarily like a deer caught in the headlights. Then she said, "Yeah, Berry. That sounds good." She then turned to Brittany, kissing her on the cheek to wake her.

"Is the scary movie over?" Brittany mumbled incoherently.

"Yeah baby, it's over," Santana replied.

_Damn them_, Quinn thought. _They're too precious for their own good._

The goofy grin on Rachel's face led Quinn to believe that Rachel was thinking along the same lines.

"Alright well, I don't want to force anyone to go to bed. It's only like, 11:00. But this baby seems to make me even more tired than usual. And Brittany seems ready to pass back out again."

In response, Brittany (who was already standing up and leaning heavily on Santana's shorter frame) simply nodded her head. Her eyes were semi-glazed over and she looked sort of like she had taken all of her cold medicine at once again.

"Ok," Rachel lightly squeezed Brittany's arm as she passed her, headed for the stairs. "Come with me, we'll get ready for bed."

Santana and Brittany followed immediately behind Rachel, their pinkies linked tightly together. Quinn took a moment to fold the throw that had been covering Rachel and the blanket that Santana and Brittany had been using. She then collected the empty popcorn bowls and glasses that they had used and carried them into the kitchen.

Standing at the sink, Quinn's thoughts began to wander. To Santana and Brittany. To Rachel.

To where the heck she was going to sleep tonight.

She must have been standing there for quite a while when suddenly she heard the soft pitter-patter of feet coming around the corner and into the kitchen. The person came up right behind her and placed a hand on her wrist.

"Quinn?" Rachel questioned. Quinn turned her head to the side, looking down at the shorter girl behind her. "Ready for bed?" Quinn could tell that Rachel was fighting sleep.

"Yeah, Rach," she replied, turning to follow Rachel upstairs.

Rachel's grip only slipped from her wrist to her hand, never letting go.

* * *

"Only if you're ok with it," Rachel stammered.

"Rach, I'm perfectly fine with sleeping in your bed. But I want _you_ to be perfectly fine with it," Quinn countered.

"Well, it is a rather large bed. There's plenty of room for both of us. I don't see why it should be an issue." Rachel smiled.

The girls had already brushed their teeth. They were standing on opposite sides of the bed. Maybe they were waiting on some unspoken cue that it was finally ok to pull back the covers and climb into the bed. Quinn smiled softly at Rachel and reached her hand out to the comforter. Rachel mimicked her movements.

And before long, they were both resting side by side. Only a few inches separated their arms.

"Quinn," Rachel asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah?"

Rachel rolled over onto her side, facing Quinn. "Thanks for letting me lay on you earlier."

"No problem, Rachel," Quinn responded in turn. Quinn moved to roll over onto her side as Rachel had, and she failed spectacularly at hiding the grimace and sharp hiss of pain that she released as she put her weight onto her bruised arm. Quickly, she resumed laying on her back. She had forgotten. She had been foolish and she had forgotten and now Rachel was going to –

"Quinn, what was that? What's wrong with your arm? We have ice packs downstairs, I wish I had known that something was wrong before so I could –"

"It's nothing," Quinn quietly replied. She didn't like where this was going.

"Well then, if it's nothing, roll back over here and face me."

Quinn took a deep breath and slowly rolled onto her side. It _seriously_ hurt. Why had she let herself slip up so horribly?

"Quinn…" Rachel was worried. _There are __**tears**__ forming in her eyes_, Rachel thought. _What on earth is going on?_ "Quinn, lift up your sleeve," Rachel all but ordered.

"Long sleeves," Quinn explained away. "I can't roll them up past my elbow. Too tight."

Rachel huffed, clearly not accepting that answer. She sat up in bed, more awake than she had been before. "Then off with it," she stated firmly.

"What?" Quinn's eyebrow rose sharply.

"Off with your shirt. Or at least, enough so that I can see your arm."

Quinn hesitated.

She wasn't sure that she was ready to get half-naked in front of Rachel yet. The only time she was ever devoid of clothes was in the Cheerios' locker room – and that wasn't just her, it was all of the girls. She and Finn never did more than make-out. And suddenly, she was about to be half-naked in front of the girl who she was falling for – the girl who was having a dream about her not even a half hour before.

"Quinn," Rachel urged quietly. The pleading tone in her voice got to Quinn. She sat up and gripped the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she pulled the shirt completely up and over her head.

_Wow_, Rachel thought. _Her body is gorgeous. What have I gotten myself into?_ But her sexy thoughts were derailed when she saw the culprit for Quinn's wincing and groaning.

There, on her upper arm, was a bruise the size of a baseball glove, Rachel was sure!

"Oh my gosh, Quinn. What happened?"

"Uhh… Cheerios' practice?" Quinn's tone didn't even sound convincing to Quinn. Rachel obviously saw right through it.

"Quinn, did _someone_ do this to you? Please… Please tell me." Rachel softened her tone, she didn't want to scare Quinn with the full passion she was feeling inside at the sight of Quinn – lying back on her pillows, blonde hair spread out around her face, a look of sadness gracing her features as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Yeah, Rachel. Someone did it." Quinn felt raw. She felt exposed – physically, yes; but emotionally, more than ever in her life.

"Tell me," Rachel said it so softly that Quinn almost missed it. But she could never have missed it, really. Rachel's fingers were reaching out, lightly touching the finger-shaped areas of the bruise, drawing shapes all the way down to Quinn's hand which was clenched into the flesh of her own stomach. Rachel lightly extracted those fingers, that hand, and brought it slowly to her face where she proceeded to lightly kiss each of Quinn's fingers while waiting on a response from the blonde.

Quinn shivered at Rachel's touches. "Finn," she breathed out.

Rachel's lips stilled against Quinn's hand. Her eyes closed, and she placed Quinn's hand against her forehead – effectively shielding her eyes from Quinn's face.

"Rachel," Quinn instantly sat up, drawing her hand (reluctantly) away from Rachel so that she could see into her eyes. "Rachel, please don't be upset." She saw Rachel swallow thickly, heard her gulp in the oppressive silence that was engulfing them. "Rachel… Say something."

Rachel looked up then – her eyes connected with Quinn's. "He will regret touching you that way, Quinn." Quinn's heart fluttered. "I will make sure of that."

"Rachel, no. Santana and Brittany got there before he could do anything else –"

"He was going to do _something else_ to you?" Rachel interrupted, the fires of her rage beginning to burn even stronger. "Remind me to thank Santana. Also, to ask her to collaborate on various torture tactics."

Quinn giggled slightly. Rachel was cute. Even when she was seething with rage.

"He had every right to be upset with me," Quinn provided. "I broke up with him. He wasn't happy."

This news shocked Rachel. Though she wasn't too shocked to realize that any progress she had hoped to make with Quinn would no longer be impeded by the immoral act of infidelity.

"It doesn't matter what happened," Rachel said. "The fact remains that he _hurt_ you, Quinn. There is nothing about that that even resembles normalcy in the slightest."

Quinn shrugged, absently reaching to her other arm and saying, "It'll heal. No biggie, Rachel. Really."

"Oh my gosh," Rachel gasped out, reaching out to gently touch the skin of Quinn's other arm. "Both of your arms? What did he do, squeeze you?"

Quinn looked down, slightly sheepishly. "Well, yeah…" Rachel's face shifted into a cold, killer look of anger. "But Rach, Santana got there and threatened him to within an inch of his life." But Rachel was getting out of bed and walking into her closet. "Rachel?" No answer. "Rachel, what are you doing? Are you going somewhere?" Quinn questioned again as Rachel came out wearing a pair of jeans, reaching for her coat on her desk chair.

"Yes, Quinn. I'm going to go give Finn a piece of my mind about _manhandling girls_. He won't be able to see straight when I'm through with him."

Quinn believed her. And because she believed her, she called out to her, "Rachel… Please come back to bed."

Rachel, her hand on her doorknob, stopped abruptly. Quinn's pleading tone was affecting her deeply. _Is there nothing I won't do for this girl_? she wondered to herself before dropping her hand. She slowly pulled her jacket off, draping it back over her chair. And, standing in the middle of her floor, she unbuttoned and slowly pulled her jeans off before tossing them into her closet.

Sitting up on her elbows in Rachel Berry's bed, looking out to the middle of her floor and seeing a pregnant, glowing Rachel standing in nothing but her underwear and a thin t-shirt, Quinn's mouth instantly went dry.

Rachel stood for a moment, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other resting underneath her chin, thoughtfully. She shook herself out of her thoughts – out of her rage – and walked over to Quinn's side of the bed.

"Quinn," she softly said while sitting on the bed next to Quinn's half-naked figure. "I can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you." She wiped at a tear that had managed to escape and slip down her cheek. "I seriously can't stand it."

Quinn leaned up further, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder and placing one hand lightly on the back of Rachel's neck. All she could do was nod and reply, "I know. I'm the same. With you."

Rachel gently wrapped her arms around Quinn's body, mindful of her bruises. She kissed Quinn's forehead lightly, her lips lingering far longer than was strictly necessary. Quinn didn't mind. Neither did Rachel.

"Will you fall asleep with me?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, climbing over Quinn and sliding underneath the covers. "I'll keep you safe."

"We'll keep each other safe."

Rachel smiled at her and clicked off her bedside light.

And when they fell asleep, they fell asleep with arms and legs tangled together in a jumbled mess; Quinn's hand resting protectively over Rachel's baby bump and Rachel's hand tenderly cupping Quinn's cheek, wiping away the tears. 


	14. Breathe

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn opened her eyes slowly. Rachel's face entered her view, and she couldn't help but smile fondly.

"_Good morning_," Rachel said, her eyes already opened and looking intently into Quinn's.

"_Good morning_," Quinn breathed. It was surprisingly comforting to wake up – legs and arms tangled perfectly with Rachel's. "_You're really hot_," Quinn said softly.

Rachel giggled. "_You're sweet_," she replied.

"_And your breath smells __**really**__ good_," Quinn said, confusion clouding her thoughts momentarily.

"_So does yours. And you know why?_" Rachel asked. Quinn shook her head. "_Because this is a fantasy_."

"_Wow_," Quinn replied, also giggling at this point. "_Can we have fantasies more often?"_

"_I'd be ok with that,_" Rachel said, slowly reaching out and dragging her fingers down Quinn's face. "_I'm going to kiss you now._"

"_Ok,_" Quinn breathed. Their lips touched.

And then Rachel's alarm went off…

* * *

Quinn groaned. And she groaned in real life. She opened her eyes slowly, as she had in her dream, and was met with a strikingly similar picture – Rachel's eyes were just opening as well, and their eyes gravitated towards each other naturally. Quinn smiled a bit, mentally agreeing with her Dream Self – _It __**is**__ surprisingly comforting to wake up like this. I will shamelessly admit that I could get used to this._

Rachel, however, seemed to have other plans. She squeezed her lips together tightly and jumped out of bed. Quinn sat up – if only to watch the half-naked girl sprint lightly to her bathroom that was connected directly to her bedroom. The door closed, and Quinn let herself fall back onto the pillows.

Just a couple minutes had passed – Quinn had almost drifted back off to sleep, curled into the warm spot on the bed that Rachel had left behind – when Rachel literally bounded across the room and jumped onto her bed, landing precariously close to Quinn's head.

"Good morning, sunshine," Rachel said sweetly.

"All that bouncing is going to shake your baby loose," Quinn mumbled into the sheets.

"Nonsense," Rachel replied, leaving it at that.

"Where did you go?" Quinn again mumbled into the sheets.

"I had to excuse myself briefly to brush my teeth, Quinn. I can't start my morning routine without my mouth feeling fresh," Rachel brightly replied.

Quinn peeked one eye out from her hiding spot amongst the sheets. Even with half of her face covered, she managed to arch her eyebrow questioningly.

"What? A hygienic routine is nothing to be frowned upon."

Quinn couldn't hold it back any longer. She burst into a fit of giggles – Rachel was just too adorable, and Quinn's emotions were just too strung out from that _fantasy_ she had been woken so unceremoniously from at six in the morning.

"Quinn?" Rachel looked nervous. "Quinn, I… I don't want to call your mental health into question. But you're beginning to worry me."

Quinn forced her lips to close, cutting off her incessant giggling. "Sorry Rach. Uhh… I'm gonna go brush my teeth as well."

Quinn scooted down and off the bed before entering the bathroom. She turned back towards Rachel and smiled cutely at her before closing the door.

"Well," Rachel mused quietly under her breath. "She was giggly in my dream as well. I guess it makes sense." She hopped off of her bed and over to her closet. "Too bad I couldn't wake up without morning breath in real life like in that weird fantasy. It would've been nice to _actually_ try and kiss Quinn." She sighed, rifling through her tops. "A girl can always dream…"

* * *

Quinn and Rachel exited the girl's room – fully clothed, fully refreshed, and each fully curious as to what it would be like to kiss the other – and went to wake Santana and Brittany.

Quinn knocked lightly on the door while saying, "Hello? S? B? Please don't be naked…" She pushed the door open and was met with an empty room.

Rachel stood on her tippy toes and placed her hands on Quinn's shoulders, trying desperately to see past the taller girl and into the room. Quinn obligingly hunched over.

"Where are they?" Rachel whispered.

"Not sure, maybe they're already downstairs?"

"Well, Dad normally gets up early on Saturdays to make breakfast. They may be with him…" She trailed off, suddenly nervous that she hadn't been allowed to properly introduce the two girls who she was beginning to consider real friends to her Dad. "Alright, let's go!"

They headed down the stairs.

"Is that…" Quinn paused after only making it about halfway down the staircase. "Is that _bacon_ I smell?"

"Probably," Rachel shrugged, turning around to stare at the girl who had stalled above her. She smiled and said, "Come on, Quinn. Mustn't keep Dad waiting. I'm sure he wants to meet you!" She reached out and pulled Quinn to her by her wrist. It snapped Quinn out of whatever bacon-induced daze she had been lured into, and they continued on their way.

As they rounded the corner into the kitchen, they both stopped – completely astounded – by what they saw in front of them.

The radio was turned to an oldies station and Bruce Springsteen was filling the air. Brendon, Santana, and Brittany were all bouncing around the kitchen (_That __**has**__ to be a fire hazard!_ Rachel thought to herself, eyeing the open stove warily), wearing "KISS THE CHEF" and "I'M TOO SEXY FOR MY APRON" aprons and singing into various kitchen utensils.

As if on cue, they all spun around in the air and landed facing Rachel and Quinn – whose mouths were hanging open in comical expressions.

The three singers immediately started dancing their way over to the girls. When Brendon got to Rachel, he held his hand out – she placed her hand in his – and he began to spin her effortlessly around the room. Her years of dance had graced her with great impromptu skills.

Brittany and Santana surrounded Quinn and grabbed each other's hands, effectively trapping Quinn between them as they began to dance around her.

Everyone was laughing loudly at this point – while dancing and attempting to sing along with the song.

Finally, the song ended – with Brittany dipping Santana low and Brendon sending Rachel across the room in a spin towards Quinn. Rachel's body finally came to a stop – against Quinn – with her hands on Quinn's shoulders and Quinn's arms wrapped securely around Rachel's waist. To hold her up. To keep her from falling. It was obviously necessary.

Silence filled the kitchen. Brittany and Brendon were staring at Rachel and Quinn's stance curiously. Still being dipped from the waist over – one leg up in the air – by Brittany, Santana was also sizing up the situation. She finally broke the silence by saying, "Well, nice of you two to join us!"

The words seemed to shock the girls out of their closeness-induced stupor.

"Uhh yeah. Umm. We were –" Quinn mumbled. Rachel was looking directly into her eyes and it was throwing her off.

"You all are ridiculous," Rachel interrupted (read: saved) her. Abruptly spinning around, she addressed the others in the kitchen. "Quinn and I awoke promptly at six! There is nothing unacceptable about that." She proceeded to walk into the kitchen and give her Dad a kiss on the cheek. "But we _do_ thank you for starting breakfast for us. I can't even imagine how early you all must have gotten up!"

"Oh, Rachel," Brittany said. "Santana and I have been up for a few hours. We actually really like your guest bed, the four posts are really useful for when –"

"_Aaaand_ that's all, folks," Quinn interrupted loudly. Santana, her eyes wide and her mouth flapping open and closed comically, turned a grateful expression on Quinn.

Rachel and Brendon burst out into laughter. Brittany looked confused at first. Then she looked down at Santana's expression – _Adorable_, she thought – and leaned down slightly, pulling Santana up to her. Santana wrapped her hand around the nape of Brittany's neck, and they shared a sweet kiss. Quinn made fake choking noises while secretly thinking that it was the cutest damn thing she had ever seen. Rachel just squealed slightly before turning to help her Dad finish cooking breakfast.

"So," Quinn said from her position, still in the entranceway. "Bacon?"


	15. Winter

_A/N: I like being forward. I like when people don't beat around the bush. If Rachel and Quinn seem too AU because of that and it just doesn't seem right to you, then I apologize in advance. But they are going to be rather forward. And I'm going to like it. So I guess that's really all there is to say about that. Enjoy!  
_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"Yeah, and then that changes the denominator of the new term depending on what the exponent used to be on the old term… Exactly. Nice job, Rach," Quinn said encouragingly before turning to look back down at her own paper, pencil in hand as she began to work on the next problem.

"You know, you haven't been calling me 'Rach' for very long. I mean, literally – you've probably only used it a handful of times over the course of the past 12 hours. But I find that I really, _really_ like it. And I know that Tina and Brittany have both used that nickname for me – after all, it is simply the shortening of my given name – but still, I find that I rather enjoy when _you_ say it, Quinn. I always thought that _grand_ romantic gestures were more my type of thing, but the simple way that you say my name? Well, I'm afraid to say that it gets me every time."

In response to this, Quinn tilted her head to the side, away from her calculus book. The eraser of her pencil was resting against her bottom lip, and she was smiling brightly at Rachel from underneath the cover of her long, blonde hair. Rachel purposefully tried avoiding her gaze by focusing on the calculus problem she was working, but the intensely charming way in which Quinn was conducting herself was not making for a very effective studying environment. Rachel finally broke and looked at Quinn – who only smiled brighter because she had managed to crack the Uncrack-able Rachel Berry. In response to Quinn's cocky attitude, Rachel stuck her tongue out.

"Oh my _god_," Santana breathed out heavily and proceeded to bang her head up and down on her open book. "Please" BANG "stop" BANG "being" BANG "so" BANG "freaking" BANG "_cute_!" She stopped hitting her head – if only because she didn't want to inflict permanent damage on herself – and flicked her gaze back and forth between the other two girls at the dining room table. "I think that if I were blind _and_ deaf, I would still be able to _feel_ the sexual tension that is literally _rolling_ off of you two in waves. It's _disgusting_. You're like cats. In heat. It's not attractive."

Quinn giggled and let her head fall down to land on top of her textbook. Rachel, on the other hand, looked _absolutely_ appalled by Santana's proclamation of disdain.

"Santana, I will have you know that it is actually_ impossible_ for me to, as you so crudely say, 'be in heat,'" Rachel started (Santana interrupted with a "You should double check your facts on that one, I'm seeing the evidence right in front of my face!"). "_Also_, I think that it is quite hypocritical of you to say such things about Quinn and me – who are merely exploring the beginnings of a _friendship_ – when you and Brittany find yourselves hardly capable of keeping your hands off of each other! In fact, I'm surprised you've let her alone this long. It's probably only because I have a feeling you actually _like_ my Dad and don't mind him stealing her away while we study."

"Pfft," Santana replied, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. But no other retort was forthcoming.

The music playing in the living room began to crescendo in time with Rachel's speech, and it caught the attention of the girls who were studying at the kitchen table. As if of one body, they all leaned as far to the left as they could to peer into the other room. They caught glimpses of Brittany and Brendon – with the coffee table, chair, and sofa pushed all the way back to the walls – waltzing around the room to the classical music that was playing from the speaker system. They heard the faint "One, two, three," coming from Brittany, and Rachel kept catching an excited look on her Dad's face when they would pass by the opening of the room.

"Well," Santana stated with her usual attitude firmly in place. "Brittany loves to give dance lessons. She was absolutely _thrilled_ when your dad asked. Who am I to deny her such a basic pleasure?"

Quinn responded by flicking her wrist in Santana's direction and making a whipping noise. Rachel's jaw dropped open in sheer merriment, her eyes growing wide. She had to cover her mouth to stop her overwhelming laughter from escaping, and her shoulders even began to heave up and down from her containment effort.

Quinn managed to keep a straight face, simply lifting her eyebrows in challenge to Santana before picking up her abandoned pencil and beginning again on her calculus problem.

"And _that_, Lopez, is how you tell someone that they are _whipped_," Rachel managed to say between giggles.

_I think_, Santana thought to herself, _that I was just double-teamed._

* * *

As Quinn drove home from the Berry's house, she found herself with an overwhelming number of issues to contemplate. Her list looked something like this:

_*Creative (and adorable) nicknames to call Rachel in order to make her heart flutter  
*Excuses to have more study dates with Rachel  
*Acquire an extensive list of horror movies to watch… with Rachel  
*Tease Santana as often as possible about being whipped  
*Fantasies involving Rachel (of the sexual variety)_

And the list when on and on… Most items on said list involved one, Miss Rachel Berry. _Which is entirely plausible_, Quinn mused, _since I just spent most of my weekend with her and all_. However, there was one bullet point that was hanging heavily at the top of Quinn's list:

_*Contemplation of Rachel's use of the word 'friendship'_

Quinn would be lying if she said that she didn't understand why Rachel had used this word specifically. They were, after all, only in the infancies of _friendship_ and whatnot.

And when Quinn found herself saying the word in her head, she cringed at the bitter tone she had used. Even in her head, the word felt wrong. It didn't fit. It simply wasn't _enough_.

_Friendship_.

Quinn sighed and mentally berated herself. _Stop being such a whiny bitch, Quinn. Look how far you've come with her. In just a few short months, you've progressed from calling her awful names and watching her get slushied… To calling her sweet nicknames, banning all methods of torture on the pregnant girl, and spending quality time with her… Falling asleep in her arms, dreaming about her, holding her hand at every given opportuntity…_

Quinn released yet another heavy sigh as she pulled into the driveway of the Fabray household. _Yep. You've got it bad, Quinn. __**Real bad**__._

* * *

As Mr. Schue pulled out the box of wigs, Rachel found herself having to _strongly_ resist the urge to stomp her foot.

"Mr. Schue, I know what you're doing," she huffed indignantly as the other glee clubbers around her proceeded to distribute wigs of all colors around the room.

"Oh yeah, Rachel? And what is that?"

"You're scared. You saw the Jane Adams girls performing, and you're cowering in the corner with your tail between your legs. And really, you have no reason! I _told you_ that they were just using 'hairography.' We're so much better than them, Mr. Schue. We have Brittany and Mike's dance moves – and the rest of the kids are coming along well in that area," she paused and then shot daggers towards an idiotic looking Finn, wig donned and all. "Well, _most_ are coming along well." She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly. "The bottom line, Mr. Schuester, is that 'hairography' is _not_ what we need to win. In fact, it will do nothing but distract from our sheer talent! Our vocals are far superior. Highlight our strengths, don't draw attention to what should actually be non-existent weaknesses."

Rachel then executed one of her patented diva storm-outs.

In her midst, she left a very amused Quinn Fabray (who simply enjoyed seeing Mr. Schuester looking taken aback), a nervous Finn Hudson (who had seen the girl glaring at him and was _not_ keen on receiving another verbal beat down), and a slightly confused Brittany (who thought hairography was pretty much the coolest thing _ever_).

* * *

After school the next day – and after a highly emotional glee club practice in which the kids sported their horrific wigs and performed for the Haverbrook School for the Deaf's glee club – the four girls found themselves in the choir room alone. Rachel was beginning to move a bit slower than usual, and it was habit for Quinn to wait for the pregnant girl now. Brittany never liked to leave without Quinn, and Santana was obviously not going anywhere without Brittany.

Therefore and in conclusion, they found themselves together quite often.

"San, I really want to go shopping this weekend. Christmas is coming soon!" Brittany exclaimed, cheerfully bouncing up and down.

Santana closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist. "Sure thing, B. How about Saturday?"

Brittany responded in kind by wrapping her arms around Santana's neck and lightly rubbing their noses together. "Perfect! I need to buy gifts for my mom and my dad and my sister and _you_ and Quinn and Rachel and Rachel's baby and…" The list went on and on. Santana – being as completely whipped as she was – just listened intently, making her own mental list of people for Brittany in case the blonde forgot. As the list came to a close, Santana leaned forward and kissed Brittany lightly on the lips. "Q, Rach – do you guys want to meet us at the mall this Saturday?"

Quinn and Rachel looked at each other; Rachel was still packing away her sheet music, and Quinn was sitting in a chair next to Rachel, legs crossed and patiently waiting for the diva to finish.

Quinn didn't say a word. Instead, she just stared up at Rachel through her eyelashes, grinned sweetly, and nodded once. Rachel said, "Sure Brittany, we would love to go. What time should we all meet?"

"Let's just say like, three in the afternoon? It'll give us all time to recover from… Well, _whatever_ activities happen to take place Friday night," Santana replied with a smirk. "Sound good?"

"Yay!" Brittany squealed, taking Santana's hand and spinning her around.

"Perfect. I shall meet you all there at approximately three o'clock in, let's say, the food court area." _Maybe I'll go early and scout out potential gifts for Quinn, _Rachel thought.

"Yep, I'll be there," Quinn said. _Oh great, I'm going to need help picking out something for Rachel for Hanukkah,_ Quinn pondered to herself. _Maybe I can get Brittany to sneak away with me, and we can find something._

_Whatever it is, it has to be __**perfect**_, both girls thought to themselves, unbeknownst to the other. 


	16. All I Want For Christmas Is You

_A/N: Clarification – at this point, Rachel + Quinn =/= Faberry.  
Also, can't promise updates every day from this point. Going home. Family, holidays, etc.**  
HAPPY HOLIDAYS**__ to everyone who reads this (if, God forbid, I don't update again soon)!_**  
**

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

The weather was changing again. Gone were the thunderstorms and the mildly chilly winds. Snowstorms and biting, howling gusts had taken their place. The Lima School District, however, had plenty of experience with harsh winter weather. When the first treacherous snowstorm hit Thursday night, the roads were salted and the trucks were out early in the morning; the kids were getting to school, no doubt about that. The snow in the student parking lot was bulldozed into one massive pile – there were parking spots, and they _were_ expected to be filled. Where there was a will, there was a way. And where there _wasn't_ a will… Well, a will would be provided for you.

The week had passed remarkably slowly for Rachel. She lay in her bed Friday night – her lap covered with the quilt her grandmother had made her for her 12th birthday – googling.

Yes. Googling.

Since that afternoon a few days ago when Santana and Brittany mentioned their shopping excursion – that was now less than 24 hours away – Rachel had found herself at a loss. And when Rachel Berry found herself at a loss, she googled.

In fact, she had been googling furiously for the past several nights in order to find a suitable gift for Quinn. For Quinn, her _friend_. _What kind of gifts do you get for friends? Friends who used to be enemies? Friends who you dream about? Friends with whom you allow your touches to linger longer than may strictly be considered __**friendly**__…_ Rachel snapped herself out of her inner musings. She had to focus. She _had_ to discover some inkling of an idea for Quinn's gift before tomorrow – she _refused_ to go into the situation blindly.

Despite her furious determination to find Quinn's gift – and despite the excessive amount of time she had found herself spending on her laptop because of it – Rachel refused to neglect her normal evening schedule. She still had take-out each night with her dads ("We are _fully committed_ to take-out, Santana," she had explained to the Latina when questioned about their exorbitant collection of take-out menus one night the week previous), she would finish her homework, and she would record and post her daily MySpace video.

This video was terribly important to Rachel. Over the past few months, she had learned to share the spotlight with her fellow glee club stars – and there _were_ several of them. Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Kurt, Puck, Quinn, Santana – _everyone _really – were incredible vocal talents. Rachel knew she had more experience than most (read: all) and _maybe _she _was_ the most talented (read: she _was _the most talented), and she was fully prepared to help her team win. But that was inherently the difference between the Old Rachel and the New Rachel – Rachel had _always_ wanted to win; this fact was common knowledge. But now… Well, now Rachel wanted _everyone_ to win. And she would do whatever it took to help New Directions be successful, even if that meant allowing every single star in the club their opportunity to shine just as brightly as Rachel (read: _almost_ as brightly as Rachel). So yes, the video was important to her – it gave her the chance to show the Great Blogosphere what she was really made of, her potential to be a star. It kept her fresh. It kept her on her toes.

It kept her singing.

She glanced over at her bedside table. Her iHome read 10:30 which felt _really_ late to the pregnant girl ("I swear," she had told Quinn, "this baby falls asleep by ten o'clock, and then my body just _can't_ keep up – I have to pass out too!"). She turned off her laptop with a heavy sigh – she had again failed to unravel The Mystery of the Perfect 'Friend' Gift. Maybe she would text Brittany in the morning, ask her to meet Rachel early. If anyone could help her, Rachel was _sure_ that person would be Brittany.

Pulling her covers up to her chin, Rachel was just closing her eyes and preparing to completely pass out when her phone sounded from the table next to her head. She sat up on one elbow, reaching over to grab it. She unlocked the phone and couldn't help but smile at the text she saw.

**Quinn**: I'm not psychic or anything creepy like that, just taking a shot in the dark to say… Good night, Rach.

Rachel giggled a little bit as she re-read the text, flopping back onto the pillows on her bed, the phone held out in front of her face. The glow from the phone was the only light in the room. She began to text back.

**Rachel**: Mmm. Nice 'shot in the dark.' Sweet dreams, Quinn. XX

Locking her phone, Rachel crossed her hands on her chest with her phone nestled underneath them. As she was engulfed in the darkness, she worried her lip between her teeth, secretly hoping to herself that Quinn wouldn't let Rachel have the final word. It was like some kind of secret trial, a hidden test to see if Quinn would text back. Rachel knew that if Quinn _didn't_ text back, it wouldn't be the end of the world, but –

Her phone vibrated against her hands, and she had to _strongly_ suppress the urge to break out in something resembling a happy dance. And rest assured, Rachel Berry had Happy Dances prepared for a variety of occasions. It just wouldn't have been fitting to perform one of these dances while laying in bed.

She unlocked her phone.

**Quinn**: I'm really looking forward to spending time with you tomorrow. I think it would be impossible for me to have anything but sweet dreams. Maybe in my dreams, I'll see you. Night. XO

If Rachel was the type of girl who swooned over romantic gestures … Ok, who are we kidding, here? Rachel _swooned_, and she swooned _hard_.

_Tomorrow is going to be an __**awesome**__ day, _Rachel thought, all of the Gift Purchasing Stress dissipating into nothingness as Rachel reached out and traced her finger over the "XO" on her screen as if to assure herself that it was really there.

* * *

The mall was crowded. No, the mall was _ridiculously _crowded. Santana wasn't entirely sure, looking back on the situation, why she had agreed to go shopping at the mall on a Saturday afternoon with like, _three weeks_ or something left until Christmas. It was complete insanity already.

She must _really_ love this girl.

The aforementioned girl of her dreams was walking slightly ahead of Santana. Well, she was _bouncing_ more than anything. Santana wasn't entirely sure that the girl could simply _walk_ from place to place – but that was, after all, something that made Brittany, _Brittany_. The blonde was talking animatedly to the small brunette who had texted Brittany at the _ungodly _hour of eight o'clock this morning. Santana and Brittany had been curled up in Brittany's bed, finding warmth from the deceptively cold, sunny day that was peeking in through the window (icy streets and snow piles valiantly fought against the sun's rays). Of course, they were naked – so that could have made things a bit chillier than usual. Regardless – it was cold, Santana had been staying warm, it was comfortable, it was _perfect_ – and then Rachel Berry had decided to text Brittany. Seriously? She texted her _hours_ before they had agreed on meeting.

Leave it to Berry to have a mini-crisis over the fact that she couldn't figure out what to buy Quinn for the holidays.

Of course, Santana wasn't _entirely_ bitter with the other girl. After Brittany replied to Rachel's text (**Brittany**: yea we'll cu there 2!), Brittany turned to Santana and proceeded to make the unexpected early morning wakeup text worth it.

So Santana may have been trailing behind the other girls as they window-shopped, but there was a slight bounce to her own step in the end.

As the clock rapidly approached 3:00, Rachel's shoulders began to hunch farther and farther over. They would have to meet Quinn in the food court in just a matter of minutes, and the diva hadn't found anything 'acceptable' to purchase yet.

"It's ok, Rach! We can come back tomorrow or even after glee one day." Brittany smiled encouragingly at Rachel, taking the smaller girl's hand in her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Rachel turned her head, smiling up at Brittany. "You're right. I haven't given up hope! I know that the perfect gift is out there somewhere. And I _will _find it!"

Brittany giggled. Santana shuddered at the waves of sentiment that were flowing off of Rachel. _Disgusting_, Santana thought – even though she had been so excited about getting Brittany _her_ Christmas present that she had literally bought it a month ago.

"I could go for some Japanese food right now. Like, a serious craving just hit me."

"First decent idea you've had all day, Berry. At least, it's much better than _texting people_ at eight am on a _Saturday morning_."

Brittany turned around and proceeded to wrap an arm around Santana's waist, opting to walk with her instead of in front of her for a while. "Oh, San. Don't act upset. I already told Rachel about the morning sex and then the shower sex and then the after breakfast sex. So she knows that you aren't mad! Isn't that awesome?" Brittany questioned.

Santana's cheeks began to turn pink – Rachel just giggled in response, holding her hand to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. It didn't really work. Santana just huffed a bit, giving in to the fact that her girlfriend was and always would be super open about their relationship – to _anyone_, apparently.

* * *

They sat down at a table in the food court with their lunches. Brittany had questioned whether or not they should wait for Quinn before getting food. Rachel had simply replied with, "One day when you or Santana or Quinn become pregnant, you will realize that _waiting_ on other people to eat is not exactly a choice. Baby momma is _hungry_," before diving into her dish.

"Speaking of Quinn," Santana said, looking at the clock on her phone's screen. "She's not normally the kind of person who accepts tardiness. It's part of the reason that Coach Sylvester loves her so freaking much – Quinn makes late Cheerios run laps, and Sue doesn't even have to open her mouth."

At this, Rachel contemplatively chewed her food while looking at her own phone.

3:16 PM

"Huh," Rachel said. "Do you… Do you think we should be worried?"

"No way," Brittany replied. "Worrying while you eat makes your tummy feel funny. And you have like, two tummies now Rachel. So you _really_ shouldn't worry. Probably even more than me and San."

Rachel just smiled at Brittany before turning back to her food. She tried not to worry.

Santana and Brittany turned the conversation to New Directions which allowed Rachel to more effectively push her worried thoughts to the back of her mind (though not _entirely_ so).

They actively started to debate numbers for sectionals. Rachel adamantly proclaimed her frustration with Mr. Schuester for not having decided on a set list for the competition yet.

"Yeah well, he's too busy screwing around with Miss Pillsbury to worry himself with something like our Sectionals set list," Santana huffed.

Rachel gasped. "If _that _is really his reason for not helping us come up with a legitimate set list in time to actually _prepare_ for the competition, I feel that I will be genuinely disappointed in his leadership abilities."

Santana and Brittany nodded – for once, all three girls sitting together were actually able to _agree_ on something.

"So Berry," Santana changed the subject abruptly. "What are your intentions with Q?"

Santana could tell that she had caught Rachel off guard, and she mentally patted herself on the back for doing so.

"Whatever do you mean, Santana?" Rachel innocently replied.

"Rach," Brittany responded for Santana. "You know what she's talking about."

The seriousness of the normally-bubbly blonde shocked both of the other girls sitting at the table. But while Rachel simply continued to look like a fish out of water, Santana reached her hand out and squeezed Brittany's hand lightly, pulling it to reside on Santana's lap underneath the table as their fingers laced together.

"Well, I'll be blunt," Rachel said.

"For the first time in your life?" Sarcasm laced Santana's voice.

Rachel huffed and continued anyway. "I would be very interested in pursuing more than just friendship with Quinn. She is, as you are both well aware, an incredibly beautiful young woman. She is smart, talented, determined, and she and I have developed something of a connection over the past couple months. In fact, and… Well, I feel I can tell you this now that _we_ are also closer as friends," Rachel paused momentarily while Santana let the statement sink in (the statement that proclaimed that _Rachel Berry_ considered _Santana Lopez_ to be her friend). "I have had romantic feelings towards Quinn for months now – since glee started, really. Before you Cheerios were even a part of it. Before I kissed Finn. Before I got pregnant… Actually – in my own incredibly backwards and convoluted way, kissing Finn was actually my way to get to Quinn. I mean, obviously that didn't work out exactly the way I had planned. Nor did _sleeping _with Jesse and getting pregnant and –"

"Ok," Santana said suddenly. "Ok, Berry. We get it." Brittany began tracing her fingers over Santana's hand under the table. Santana sighed and tried to suppress her annoyance at Rachel's ability to talk for such extended periods of time. "I admit, I'm surprised to hear that you would kiss the Neanderthal in order to show your feelings for Quinn… Whatever, it doesn't matter. The fact is, I can see that you like her. Despite the fact that you're pregnant – which obviously calls your judgment into severe question – I don't doubt that you're a good person. Brittany and I discussed it last night, and we would like you to know that…" Here, Santana stopped, unsure as to whether or not she could say it.

Brittany helped her out. "We are totally cool with you and Quinn being special friends. Like me and San! And it's totally fun, so I don't see why you guys haven't already started." Brittany smiled brightly, and Santana reached over and kissed her on the cheek tenderly.

Rachel wasn't necessarily at a loss for words – in fact, she could've said a great deal concerning what she had just heard from the girls sitting across from her. Instead, she chose to simply reach her hands across the table, palms up. Santana arched an eyebrow skeptically, but Brittany immediately grabbed one of Rachel's hands with both of her own. Santana slowly – with _great_ hesitation – placed one of her hands lightly on top of Rachel's. Rachel gave them a squeeze and simply said, "Thank you."

* * *

Behind the girls, a musician had been actively setting up his piano, his amps, and a table with his Christmas album on it. He began playing Mariah's 'All I Want for Christmas is You,' and Rachel's ears immediately perked up as the first notes washed over her. The lines left his lips beautifully. Rachel didn't even mentally keep a list of aspects concerning his technique that he could improve on.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There's just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true_

Brittany clapped excitedly and the girls all turned to watch him perform.

_All of this talk about Quinn_, Santana thought, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind. She slid her phone open and noted the time.

3:58 PM

As if her troubled thoughts had been the cause, her phone began to ring in her hand.

'The Fabrays' flashed on Santana's screen. _Finally_, Santana thought. _The girl is calling to explain that she had a flat or her car broke down or her cell phone died or something equally embarrassing_.

She pressed the green call button and answered, "Hey Q, what's up?"

Rachel was immediately distracted from the musician when she heard Santana say, "Hey Q, what's up?" Her first instinct was to allow the warmth of relief to flood through her tense muscles. _Good_, she thought. _Quinn is calling. She must have just had car trouble. We'll probably just have to reschedule our shopping day, it shouldn't really be that much of an issue – _

But Rachel's thoughts grounded to a halt instantly when Santana quickly turned away from Brittany and Rachel, standing up from the table and walking a few feet away. _What the…_

Santana was only away from the table for 45 seconds, tops. But Rachel saw Santana slide her phone shut and into her back pocket before hanging her head slightly and placing her hands on her hips, and Rachel was immediately on high alert. Brittany had kept her hand firmly grasped around Rachel's own – incredibly intuitive as Brittany was, she preemptively scooted from her chair to the chair next to Rachel. Rachel simply turned to the blonde, a terrified expression in her eyes. They both looked up to Santana as she re-approached the table. Rachel didn't want her to open her mouth. _Seriously, Santana, don't say it. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it._

"It wasn't Quinn, it was her mom," Santana began. "Quinn was in an accident. She's literally being rushed to the hospital as we speak."

Rachel gasped, and everything around her seemed to melt into nothingness. She barely felt Brittany's firm grasp around her shoulders – attempting to comfort her, to keep her grounded.

_All I want for Christmas is…  
You._


	17. A Twist In My Story

_A/N: Some of this might be considered graphic towards the end. You've been warned._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn Fabray _hated_ dinner parties.

For as long as she could remember, Russell Fabray had been throwing dinner parties for the privileged-few of Lima, Ohio. The social elite, the wealthy, the Baptists… Quinn had been wearing dresses and heels since she was 10 years old and her mother had convinced her father that she was old enough to partake in the grown-up festivities. Festivities such as… Fake-laughter at horrible jokes, fake-nodding at stories that you don't actually care about, and frantically trying to remember peoples' names – even though you've seen them a hundred times before.

People were always fawning over Quinn – how beautiful she was, how exciting it must be that she was Head Cheerio, how proud her parents seemed, questions about what colleges she was going to apply to – every single party, it was all the same. Everyone was the same. Everyone was fake.

Including Quinn. And she kind of hates herself for it.

But her father had made it clear – time and time again since she was 10 years old – that Quinn was to behave a certain way. She was to dress a certain way (her mom helped, obviously). She was to act a certain way. She was to talk a certain way. She was to _be_ a certain version of herself. That's how it had always been. Quinn was afraid that, ultimately, that was how it was always going to be.

Over the past few months, she had learned that things could change – that _people_ could change – but Russell Fabray was _not _one of those people. And since he wasn't changing, when Quinn was in his house… Well, she wasn't changing either.

* * *

It was Friday night. The Fabrays were having one of their Baptist parties – pastors and their wives and their children. And there were enough Baptist congregations in Lima to cause quite a large gathering to form in Quinn's home. However, on nights like last night, it didn't really feel like home to Quinn.

She had made her escape from the party as early as was humanly possible without incurring the wrath of her father. Still, it was almost ten o'clock before she was able to successfully bluff her way upstairs.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, her head hit the smooth surface and her eyes closed. She sighed. _Just another night with the Fabrays_, she thought to herself before slowly beginning to walk across the room to her bed. As she went, she kicked off her black, three-inch Jimmy Choo's that her mother had bought for Quinn for the occasion. They landed haphazardly – one by her closet door, the other by her Cheerios duffel bag. They would be forgotten soon enough, along with the dress she was already unzipping – her hand nimbly arching up to the top of her dress and slowly freeing her body from the confines of the black material. She watched herself in the mirror. She knew the dress was beautiful – her mother wouldn't have had it any other way.

The dress pooled at her feet. She stood in her underwear. The soft locks of her blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders. She touched her arms, where the bruises used to be. Her skin was now clear, unblemished. She shuddered as she thought about Finn's behavior. She began to shake as this triggered memories of her father – memories of a Russell Fabray with barely controlled rage bearing down on her, on a younger Quinn, on a Quinn incapable of protecting herself.

Could she protect herself now? If he was angry, if he was drunk, if she had spilled fruit punch on the white carpet?

If he knew that she had broken up with the star football player of William McKinley High School and had struck up a budding friendship with the resident New Directions star instead?

Quinn unclasped her bra as she walked to her chest of drawers. She pulled out a tank top and some shorts – sleepwear. After getting dressed for bed, she walked over to her desk and opened her laptop. The screen powered on, and Quinn sat down in her desk chair with one of her knees pulled up to her chest.

She opened her internet browser and navigated to facebook.

Yes. Facebook.

She enjoyed facebook. Quinn was popular – and facebook allowed Quinn to 'socialize' without having to _socialize_ in real life. She could be 'friends' with all of the people from WMHS who wanted to be friends with her. She didn't have to hurt anyone's feelings. And at the end of the night, she could just log off.

However, there were some unpleasant aspects associated with the social networking medium. One of these most unfortunate side-effects was Jacob Ben Israel. Without fail, he would begin chatting with Quinn within seconds of her logging on.

**Jacob Ben Israel**: Quinn Fabray, care to comment on the rumors surrounding your dubious breakout with golden boy Finn Hudson?

Quinn set her status to 'invisible.' She wasn't in the mood to tell Jacob off tonight. Or most nights, really.

Instead, she navigated to her message inbox. Over the past couple weeks, she and Rachel had been communicating back and forth. Her thoughts, her worries – they dissipated. It was a euphoric feeling.

And it was basically Rachel's fault.

Quinn clicked on the message thread that she had been adding to almost every night now with Rachel. She was tired, but she had also been forced to endure mindless socializing for the past several hours. She was going to indulge in re-reading Rachel's message from earlier in the week.

_**Rachel Berry  
**__Wednesday, 7:28pm_

_Quinn,_

_I know what you mean, the constraints we face living in such a small town can have a significant impact on the ways in which we choose to live our lives. Sometimes, the difficult decisions are made 1000x more difficult simply because of where we live, where we are educated, who we go to school with or… Or who are parents are, am I right?_

_But to answer your question, Quinn, no. I did not always know that I was physically (and emotionally, really) attracted to girls as well as guys. It's something that, perhaps, I was more aware of because of who my parents are. When your dads are two gay men – well, you aren't particularly sheltered from that lifestyle. Obviously. There is actually one defining moment in my life that I remember as if it was yesterday. I can't believe it, but I'm pretty sure that I'm blushing just from thinking about it! I don't think I can tell you through a message. This is probably something I'll have to relay to you in person. Maybe after our shopping excursion on Saturday? I'm very excited about that, by the way! I have a feeling that it's going to be a lot of fun._

_Anyway, my dads are calling for me. It's Thai take-out tonight! And it smells delicious. I'm sorry to cut this short. :-( I hope that you can find it within yourself to forgive me._

_Yours,  
__Rachel Berry * (- that 'asterisk' thing is the closest I can get to signing my name with an actual 'star,' but I think you get the point – always remember, Quinn, that metaphors are important)_

Quinn giggled a little. It was almost disgusting how cute Rachel could be, even simply through words on a computer screen. It wasn't fair, really.

Quinn started to type out a reply to Rachel – something she had been too busy to do up until this point – but she soon found that she was incredibly tired. Her eyes began to droop. She didn't bother to turn her computer off, opting to simply close it so that she could finish her message after her morning run.

She turned off her desk light and got into bed, nestling down into the covers. She reached for her phone and, on a whim, sent a text message to Rachel saying good night. She sat the phone back on her bedside table, but she laid on her side so as to more effectively stare directly at it – in the unlikely situation that she had actually managed to catch Rachel before her 'baby made her fall asleep' or whatever excuse she was sure the pregnant girl would come up with the next day. She smiled a little bit.

And when her phone buzzed, the smile proceeded to light up Quinn's features as she hurriedly reached for her phone to read Rachel's reply. The text was short, but Quinn felt her heart flutter regardless. Rachel was a sweetheart. And Rachel was trying not to overstep some kind of invisible boundaries, Quinn could tell. Never the one to let someone else have the last word, Quinn thought momentarily about what she would say to the other girl before quickly typing out her message. When she added the 'XO' at the end, she licked her lips. _I wish_, she thought.

Content, Quinn slid her phone onto its dock and set her alarm for the morning.

_Sweet dreams indeed_.

* * *

When Quinn woke up the next morning, she felt good. She set her alarm quite a bit later on Saturdays. It was nice. She felt refreshed and ready to take on the world. Really though, she was just ready to spend the afternoon in the presence of Rachel Berry. And, of course, Santana and Brittany as well. But mainly Rachel.

She quickly changed into the clothes she wore for running, lacing up her Nikes before leaving her room. As she walked out of her bedroom, she lightly pulled the door behind her. It didn't click, but Quinn didn't mind. She was ready to experience the soothing feeling of the pavement pounding by underneath her shoes. She grabbed her iPod off of the table by the front door and started the playlist Rachel had made for her for running.

As she closed her front door behind her and turned to look out at the world, she couldn't help but laugh a bit. _Everything _was covered with snow. And if it wasn't covered by snow, it was covered by ice. _Great_, Quinn thought. _This should be an interesting adventure._ She took off at a slight jog, trusting her shoes to keep a tight grip for her. _I hope that if I __**do**__ fall, no one is around to see it_. But neighbors were out shoveling snow. People were attempting to drive (probably for Christmas shopping, just like everyone else in the country). Basically – people were out; and if she fell, people _were_ going to see.

* * *

Quinn made it back to her front door safely. She was a little dissatisfied with her run – she hadn't been able to keep her normal pace because of the treacherous conditions. This also resulted in her taking quite a while longer to get home than she had hoped.

_Whatever, it's Saturday. And I still have plenty of time to get ready for Rachel. Errr … To get ready for the mall. Yeah._

She opened her front door and toed off her shoes. They were mostly wet and snow-covered, and she knew that her mom wouldn't appreciate the mess – and her dad would be given another reason to yell and threaten her.

It really just wasn't worth it.

She left her iPod on the table by the door where she always left it – headphones wrapped neatly and securely around the device. Quinn headed for the stairs, intent on taking a long, _hot_ shower. She had managed to keep her heartbeat up so she wasn't necessarily _cold_ during her run, but single digit temperatures were always going to be _single digit temperatures_ and therefore incredibly cold.

Just as her foot hit the first step, she heard the voice of her father call out to her.

"Quinn."

She stopped abruptly. That tone of voice… She hadn't heard it in _years_. Her hand violently gripped the banister. _What did I do?_ She began to frantically wrack her brain for the slightest clue. She came up with nothing.

So, completely and utterly terrified, Quinn turned and walked back to her father's study. She knew she would find him there, sitting in his broken-in high-back leather chair.

Sure enough, she rounded the corner and there sat Russell Fabray. Right leg crossed over his left. Chin held high – cockily. Glass of scotch resting in his right hand against the arm of the chair (even though it was barely even one o'clock in the afternoon). All of this was expected. All of this, Quinn found normal – and oddly comforting in its normalcy.

What was _not_ normal – what caused the blood in Quinn's veins to turn as cold as ice and her heartbeat to quicken to a completely unnatural pace and rhythm – was the fact that Quinn's laptop was sitting on the table in front of her father. It was open. And the last screen Quinn herself had viewed was now glaring up at her from the entrance of the study.

"Daddy, I –"

"Don't," he said simply. To the average person – to someone who had never met Russell in his life or even someone who was _acquainted _with Russell – nothing would seem amiss. But suddenly, Quinn found herself afraid. Indescribably terrified. For a moment, she fought the surge of panic that arose as she realized that her cell phone wasn't in her pocket – she couldn't text Santana. She couldn't ask the Latina to protect her or even to calm Quinn down with her words. She was alone.

Her father lifted his glass of scotch to his face. His eyes never once shifted from Quinn's own. The glass was a little over half-full when he placed it to his lips. He tilted the glass back – farther and farther – until nothing remained.

"I went into your room to wake you. I wanted to tell you about the great responses I had received last night at the party from everyone. About _you_." Quinn heard the last syllable as more of a growl and less as a distinguishable word. "Instead, I saw your bed, empty. I saw the shoes your mother just _had_ to buy for you – the expensive shoes, the shoes that came from _my _paycheck – tossed carelessly around in your room. And that dress," he curled his lip in disgust. "_Piled_ on the floor in a lump. You didn't even bother to hang it up. So I was angry about this, but I was willing to see beyond it. I remembered that you had been tired last night. That would have been ok. But something was nagging at the back of my mind. I couldn't shake it." Quinn's hands were hanging at her sides, and they were beginning to tremble. "So I walked over to your desk. And I opened your computer. And _**this**_," he nods his head at her laptop. "Is what I find."

"Daddy, it's not what you think –"

"_You know better_!" he yelled. "Don't play me for a fool, don't try to make me sound _ignorant_." He was standing by this point, angrily brandishing his empty brandy glass in Quinn's general direction. "I open it up, and I see _this_." He picks up the laptop and turns it to his face. Before he even begins reading, Quinn knows the words he's going to say. She wrote them herself, after all. "_Rachel, you have no idea how brave I think you are. You're lucky to have two gay dads,_" the words left Russell's mouth with distaste. "_I'm glad that you told me that you like girls, because, Rachel… I like girls as well. A lot, actually. And, since we're being so honest with each other, I think you should know... I think I'm in love with you._"

Russell turned to look at his daughter. Her entire body seemed to be vibrating, she was shaking so badly. His lip was curled in complete and utter disgust. Quinn's mouth opened and closed – she wanted to say something. She _so desperately_ wanted to be able to say something. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that everything he had read was a horrible lie, that she would never do something to disgrace him in this way.

But those lies simply could not cross her lips.

Without warning, her father's face contorted into an ugly mask and he propelled the laptop across the room as hard as his strength allowed. It shattered into a thousand broken pieces.

Of all the thoughts Quinn should have had in that moment – thoughts of loss and self-preservation and _fear_ – she instead found herself thinking, _I'm not sure that I'll have the courage to tell Rachel anymore_.

Freed of the laptop, Russell then advanced on Quinn's trembling figure. Without hesitation, he pulled back his right hand – still holding the brandy glass – and then swung it in an upward arc with all of the might he possessed. Right across Quinn's face.

Quinn's mind flashed back to that night when Santana and Brittany had been there to rescue her. She had felt intense pain then; the ice had helped – but the pain had been unforgettable.

This pain was something entirely new. Her father hadn't held back. In fact, Quinn was so flustered by the pain and the actual action of _her father hitting her_ that she was confused when she realized that she was on the floor on her hands and knees, a steady flow of blood dripping onto the hardwood floor underneath her hands. The blow had spun her around in the air – she was facing away from her father.

And since she was facing away from her father, the only warning she had that he was not finished with her was the firm grip of his hands on her shoulders, hauling her back up to her feet. He shoved her against the closest wall, and she cried out in pain as the corner of a bookshelf roughly dug into her hip.

When Russell spoke again, his voice was not one that Quinn recognized any longer. "No daughter of mine," he exhaled heavily into Quinn's face, the stench of alcohol flooding her senses. "Will practice such _filthy, disgusting_ acts of _**perversion**_ in my house! You are a _disgrace_. That you are even _friends_ with that little _whore_ who got herself knocked up, that-that-that _abomination_ with _**two fathers**_? That's not even a _real family!_ It's abhorrent. It's wrong. It's a God-damned _SIN_ and I will _not _stand for it in my house!" Quinn was crying freely, her tears were mixing with the blood that was seeping from her busted lip. "You will pack your things. You will leave this house. And you will _never _come back here. _**Is that understood**_?"

All Quinn could do was nod. Her entire body was numb. Which was a good thing, as her father's next action was to backhand her again – and this time when she crumpled to the floor, she didn't get back up.

* * *

When Quinn _did_ wake up, it was to the frantic whispering of her mother's voice in her ear.

"Wha…" Quinn tried to speak, but her head was pounding and her _face hurt_ like a complete bitch and she really had no idea what was going on. _Why am I on the floor?_ she wondered.

And then it all came flooding back.

Focusing on her mother's face, she was able to stop the room from spinning as harshly.

"Quinnie… Oh, Quinnie, you have to get up. You have to get your things, your father is –"

"Wha?" Quinn tried again, interrupting her mother's rant. _Get your things?_

"Come on," Judy said, grabbing Quinn and helping the girl to her feet.

Quinn was wobbly. Her legs hardly allowed her to stand. Judy was ushering her upstairs.

There was an extra-large suitcase in front of Quinn's door. She let out a whimper when she saw it.

Judy removed her hand from around Quinn's waist. Quinn almost fell. She managed to prop herself up against the doorframe just in time. Which was good. She wasn't sure she could get back up at that point.

"JUDY!" Russell bellowed from down the hall. Quinn's heart began to race again. Judy rubbed her hands together nervously.

"Quinn, I-I don't know what to say. Your father is –"

"_JUDY!_" he bellowed again. Judy lightly patted her daughter on the cheek – which only resulted in a cringe as pain lanced through Quinn's face – before scurrying away to her husband.

And then Russell came storming down the hallway. Quinn found within herself the ability to move. She stumbled over her suitcase and into her room, barely managing to make it to her bed – onto which she promptly fell.

"I'm going downstairs. I'm setting the timer on the microwave for 30 minutes. If you are not out of this house – and out of my life and your mother's – when it goes off, there will be _dire_ consequences. Do you understand me?" His voice was quieter now. Quinn realized that she preferred the yelling.

"But Daddy –"

He raised his hand threateningly, disallowing her to speak even a single word more to him. He left her room, pausing in the doorway. "Thirty minutes," he reiterated over his shoulder.

Quinn allowed everything to sink in for two minutes. Two minutes was all she was giving herself. She turned to look at her clock.

3:16 PM

_I'm late for shopping_, she groggily thought.

She closed her eyes. Two minutes. That was it. Then she had to move. She had to pack her things. Her clothes. Her shoes. Her school things. Her laptop – well, no. Not her laptop. Her cell phone. Her wallet. Photographs. Stuffed animals that she had had all her life. She opened her eyes.

3:18 PM

And she set to work. She filled the suitcase that either her mother or her father had left in the hallway. She filled her backpack. Her Cheerios duffel was stuffed to the brim. She changed her clothes – leaving her running clothes abandoned on the floor.

She didn't want them.

* * *

Her hair was pulled back out of her face into a tight ponytail. Her bags were slung over her shoulders or being carried behind her as she made the treacherous walk down her driveway and to her car. She hadn't heard the microwave timer go off yet. Regardless, she hadn't seen either of her parents as she left the house.

She threw her bags into her trunk and walked around to the driver's side door, almost losing her footing on the ice and catching herself just in time. If the neighbors were staring, she found it rather easy to ignore them. She got inside and turned the car on, trying to warm it up. She was beyond cold. She was frozen.

And then the tears came again. One side of her face was already so swollen that she wasn't entirely sure how the tears were managing to escape, but they were.

Finally, tears still relentlessly streaming down her face, Quinn decided that her car was defrosted enough that she could drive. Her first thought was to drive to Santana's. Or Rachel's. But they were at the mall. She would go there. She would go to the mall and call the girls and have them meet her outside. They would figure something out. Together.

Her mind made up, Quinn pulled out onto her street – perhaps a bit more recklessly than she normally would have. But she couldn't find it within herself to care.

She made it to the stoplight at the outlet of her neighborhood. She was waiting to turn left. The light had apparently chosen to stay red for all of eternity. A fresh wave of tears hit Quinn, and she slammed her clenched fists against the steering wheel.

She heard it before she saw it in her rearview mirror – the screeching of tires as someone valiantly attempted to bring their car to a stop on the icy roads. When she did see them, she realized that they were right behind her – the car's brakes had clearly locked up and the other driver's car was obviously about to ram into Quinn's own.

Instinctively, Quinn slammed on her brakes as well to brace her vehicle for the impact.

But the icy roads had created a situation that was never going to be favorable. When the other car smashed into Quinn's, both cars skidded forward into the busy intersection.

Quinn heard horns honking and tires skidding and metal crunching. And then she heard nothing at all.

_

* * *

_

A/N: Reiteration – still can't promise daily updates. Also, please don't hate me for this chapter. I promise to **try **and update sometime over the next two days.


	18. City in a Snow Globe

_A/N: It's been a crazy couple of days. My family is crazy. Christmas is crazy. Hope this chapter doesn't reflect that too much._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Santana

Santana had been strong for a lot of people for a very long time. She was strong for her little brother when their father simply stopped coming home – Santana was 11, her brother was 8. She was strong for her mother who – they soon after discovered – had a knack for picking out abusive boyfriends. She was strong for Quinn every other weekend or so when the girls would sleepover together, listening intently as Quinn tried to downplay the oppressive environment that was the Fabray Household – never successfully. Santana was even strong for Brittany when someone – Brittany's younger sister – told her that the ducks in the park didn't _actually_ belong to Brittany.

But now Santana found herself faced with a situation that, for all intents and purposes, should _feel familiar_ to her. She was used to being strong. Comforting people – threatening others – providing solutions and comfort. These were all things that Santana Lopez had found herself closely acquainted with throughout her short 16 years of life. Only now, the subject of her 'protection' was Rachel Berry. And this was different. This wasn't strictly 'the norm' for Santana. Rachel Berry was last on the metaphorical List of People Santana Lopez Could Possibly Have to Protect. Last.

And yet, here they were. Santana was glad that she had Brittany with her.

As they left, Brittany and Santana found themselves sandwiching Rachel between them. Brittany – with her height advantage – had wrapped her left arm around Rachel's shoulders and was cradling the shorter girl against her side. Santana was on Rachel's other side – her right arm was wrapped securely around Rachel's waist, supporting her as they made their way to Santana's car.

Santana opened the backseat and allowed Brittany to slide in first. Rachel might as well have fallen inside, she was so incredibly limp. But Brittany caught her.

Before she closed the door, Santana leaned inside and quietly whispered to Rachel, "Don't worry, Berry. Brittany and I are going to be with you every step of the way. We can be strong for you. But in the end, _you_ have to be strong for Quinn. Do you understand?" Rachel turned her brown eyes – shining with tears – on Santana. Her lip was puffed out of its own accord, due to the tears she was attempting to withhold. All Rachel could do was nod. In response, Santana placed a comforting hand on Rachel's cheek, lightly drew the emotionally fragile girl towards her, and placed a light kiss on her other cheek. "It's going to be ok."

Santana quickly pulled herself out of her backseat, closing the door behind her. Drawing herself up to her full height, she closed her eyes briefly – breathing in the cold air, gathering herself – before finally getting behind the steering wheel.

_Damn you, Fabray. Now I have to take care of your dwarf._ And yet, there was no malice behind her thoughts as she proceeded to carefully back out of her parking spot and head towards the hospital. She looked into her rearview mirror, and her eyes locked with Brittany's. A small, sad smile appeared on Brittany's face. Santana mouthed '_I love you_' to her, and Brittany used her hand to blow Santana a small kiss.

* * *

Brittany

I was scared. Like, _really_ scared. Santana doesn't get scared – ever. But I saw her answer her phone. I saw the way she was holding herself – and I saw it _change_ right there, in front of my face. How could everyone else around us not see that something terrible was happening? I mean, the guy playing the piano was really good. But still… They didn't even care that Rachel was sitting across from me looking like a scared little girl – like her world was crumbling.

And we still hadn't even heard what was going on.

And now I'm sitting in Santana's backseat. It's a nice backseat, don't get me wrong. I mean, I seriously enjoy this backseat most days. And there was that one time, after the Titans won like, that _one_ game a few weeks ago. Everyone was so excited and pumped up and there were parties to go to and people to see and there would probably have been beer and loud music and dancing… But instead, Santana took me to the backseat of her car. We had sexy times. It was fun.

The problem is… Well, the problem is that _now_, this backseat is a place of sadness. Rachel is practically laying on me – which I'm actually super fine with. Rachel is really, really soft. Her hair smells yummy. I think she might have noticed me sniffing her hair just now, but I don't think she cares. She's thinking really hard. It's like I can feel her thoughts bouncing around inside her head. I wrap my arms tighter around her, pressing my lips against her head. I give her a soft kiss. I'm trying to tell her without _actually _telling her that I'm here for her.

I see Santana looking at me in her mirror. She tells me that she loves me. Of course, I know that already. I put my fingers to my lips and kiss them lightly before blowing the kiss to her. I hope she caught it…

I have a feeling that Santana feels a bit helpless. She was comforting Rachel from the first second that we found out that something happened to Quinn. And Santana is used to comforting a _lot_ of people – her brother, her mother, Quinn, _me_ – but she's never had to make someone like Rachel feel better. Rachel is special, I know she is. She can't dance as well as me, but there aren't a lot of people who can. But still – when Rachel sings, it's like an angel or something. That thought makes me sad… Because when Rachel sings, sometimes I look at Quinn instead of at Rachel. I can still hear Rachel, so it's good. But I like to look at Quinn because she gets this goofy, lovey-dovey look on her face – it's beautiful, really. Santana sometimes sees me looking and that causes her to look at Quinn, too. Santana says it's disgusting. But I know better.

Santana looks at me like that all the time.

My hand is wet. I look down and realize that Rachel has finally started crying. I try to wipe her tears from my hand as best as I can without making Rachel feel bad for getting my hand all wet. Then I use that same hand to gently wipe at Rachel's cheek, trying to dry her skin. She kind of turns her head a bit and looks up into my eyes. She looks so sad, I feel like kissing her – just to take that sadness away. It's what I would do if I was holding Santana in my arms and _she_ was crying. I don't know if Quinn would like that very much though. Or Santana.

"Thanks," she whispers.

I hug her to me again, harder, pressing my cheek against hers and trying to show her – again, more, as much as humanly possible – that I'm here for her. "It's going to be ok," I reply.

The car starts to slow down – not that we were going very fast in the first place because the roads are seriously horrible right now. But I look around us and see that we are in the hospital parking lot. There are a lot of cars here right now. And something about that makes me sad.

We get out of the car and head inside. Rachel is squished between San and me. We're trying to all keep from falling. We get closer and closer to the hospital – closer and closer to seeing Quinn, I hope. I try to believe the words I said to Rachel. _It's going to be ok_. Yeah. It's going to be ok.

* * *

Quinn

_Quinn knew that she couldn't possibly be sitting where she was sitting. It just didn't make sense._

_She had felt the car slam into her. She had heard the sounds. She had felt what it __**must**__ feel like to be in a car crash. _

_She knew all of these things with inexplicable certainty. She thought to herself that maybe, just maybe, this was what it felt like to be dead. Maybe she was experiencing the afterlife. Maybe she would get to see God._

_Or maybe she wouldn't. And that was scary, too._

_Quinn was sitting in the WMHS football stadium. She was on the bottommost row of bleachers. Her hands were resting in her skirt-covered lap. She was wearing her Cheerios uniform. She could feel that her hair was firmly in a ponytail – most likely, the pony was tight, precise, and ultimately perfect. Coach Sylvester would be pleased to know that Quinn strictly adhered to Cheerio Policy even when she was stuck in some alternate realm of reality._

_It looked cold. There was snow. Even the track seemed slick. But Quinn wasn't cold. She was fine, really. Where the hell was she? What she was doing there? Was she sleeping? Her thoughts were a jumbled mess…_

_But then a fog lifted and Quinn felt safe. No, literally – there had been an oppressive, overhanging fog. And it lifted. And she saw Rachel running towards her._

_Her first instinct was to yell out, "Rachel! Be careful! It's slippery!" So she did._

_All she heard in response was Rachel's giggles as the small brunette continued her fast approach._

_Rachel finally made her way over to Quinn. There was a short railing in front of Quinn – Rachel stood on the other side of the railing with her hands firmly planted on it. She smiled brightly at Quinn and laughed a bit. Quinn couldn't help but return the smile. Her face seemed to spread into a grin so wide that her face felt like it may literally split in two. She giggled at the thought and promptly covered her face with her hand._

_Rachel vaulted – yeah, vaulted – over the railing and straddled the seat next to Quinn. Quinn turned her body fully in order to see all of Rachel. The girl was beautiful. Her hair was down – long and wavy and smelling delicious on the soft breeze. She was wearing – of all things – shorts and a t-shirt. But she clearly wasn't cold either. And her legs looked yummy._

_Quinn couldn't help it. Even when trapped in her own mind, she thought Rachel was delicious-looking._

"_Hi," Quinn softly whispered._

"_Hello," Rachel replied._

_They sat in silence for a while. Quinn hesitantly began to reach out towards Rachel's hand. As her hand approached Rachel's, the darker girl seemed to fade out – this caused Quinn to pull back abruptly. As soon as she did, Rachel seemed to come back into focus._

"_Yeah," Rachel began. "It's a bummer, no? Believe me, I really want to touch you, too. But that's not how things work here."_

"_And where is 'here'?" Quinn questioned._

"_Mmm…" Rachel placed both of her feet up on the bleachers, wrapping her arms around her knees. She placed her head on her kneecaps and struck a thoughtful expression, head tilted partially to the side. "It's hard to say, really. One could easily claim that we are in the school's football stadium." Quinn nodded in agreement. "Or one could just as easily say that we're sitting on the floor of the auditorium."_

_Quinn opened her mouth to question Rachel – perhaps about her __**sanity**__ – but within the blink of her eyes, the girls were legitimately sitting on the smooth, wooden surface of the auditorium._

"_Huh." It was the most articulate thing Quinn could find within herself to say._

"_Exactly," Rachel giggled. "This 'here' isn't exactly definable. Maybe the 'why' would be a better question."_

"_Well then __**why**__ exactly are we –"_

"_Ah ah ah," Rachel interrupted succinctly, holding a single finger up in front of Quinn's face (whose eyes crossed in order to see it). "We're running out of time. You're going to wake up soon. And guess what?" Quinn just raised her eyebrows in question. "You're going to be ok, sweetheart. In fact, I'm going to be there when you wake up. And the 'me' who is out there? Yeah, you can touch her. And hug her. And kiss her. And __**be**__ with her." At this point, Rachel hopped up and brushed off the seat of her shorts before beginning to walk towards the stage's left wing. With the curtain pulled aside in her hand, she turned back to Quinn. "So don't waste anymore time, ok?"_

_Before Quinn could reply, Rachel was gone. Quinn blinked again, and she was in Rachel's bedroom. She immediately felt comforted, at peace. Blackness began to engulf her vision, so she walked over to Rachel's bed. She pulled back the covers and slid inside. It smelled of Rachel. Quinn smiled. It was going to be ok._

* * *

Rachel

If there was one person (and in all actuality, there were multiple people) who would eagerly admit that Rachel was acting like a complete wreck, it was _Rachel_. But as the three girls crossed over the threshold of the hospital – double doors opening up in front of them and the odiferous hospital air wafting over them – Rachel remembered Santana's words. "_In the end, __**you**__ have to be strong for Quinn._"

Something inside of Rachel snapped into place. The girls flanking her must have felt some tangible evidence of her change – they loosened their grips around her shoulders and hips, allowing her to more fully walk on her own instead of with their assistance.

Rachel was feeling more confident, but she still didn't really know what she was looking for. Fortunately, Santana soon spotted an older woman sitting in a section of highly-uncomfortable looking chairs. She rushed forward saying, "Mrs. Fabray!" The woman instantly raised her head from her hands and spotted the fast-approaching girls.

Rachel couldn't help but think that Mrs. Fabray's eyes held an incredible amount of sadness. Or maybe guilt. Or complete and utter confusion. Rachel's sixth sense was firing like mad. Something wasn't right. Her hands clenched at her sides reflexively.

Mrs. Fabray stood as the three girls surrounded her. Rachel allowed Santana to ask the questions, seeing as how she hadn't met this woman before in her life.

"How is she? Have you heard anything yet?"

The woman's mouth opened a closed a couple of times before she managed to compose herself enough to answer. "Y-yes. Yes, the doctor has been by. She's in the intensive care unit right now. Once she has been stable for long enough, they'll move her to a regular room. By some miracle, she doesn't have any broken bones." Brittany clapped. "She's uhh… Badly, _badly_ bruised," Mrs. Fabray's voice wavered violently. "All over her body. There was some internal bleeding, but they believe they've stopped it. She has a concussion. I mean, there are lots of little things. But nothing is broken. She's going to be ok."

Rachel felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She sighed, and her head – with a smile crossing her face – dropped onto her chest. Santana reached over and grabbed her wrist, giving it a careful squeeze. Brittany squealed in happiness and relief and reached out, pulling Mrs. Fabray into a hug.

"Judy, this is great!" Brittany exclaimed. "When can we see Q?"

Rachel's attention was drawn back to the scene in front of her. She definitely wanted to know this as well.

"Only one person can see her at a time while she's in the intensive care unit. I've already been in to see her. But she's still sleeping." _It's probably best that she didn't see me, actually_, Judy thought to herself.

"Rachel, you should go," Brittany said. "In case she wakes up soon."

"Are you sure?" Rachel questioned the other girls. "She would want to see one of her best friends, I think."

"Exactly," Santana supplied. "So go ahead. She'll love it if it's you."

Immediately after these words from Santana, Rachel turned to look at Mrs. Fabray. She almost missed the brief cringe that crossed the older woman's face at Santana's words.

Almost.

Rachel got directions to Quinn's room from Judy and made her way there as quickly as she could. She couldn't shake her sixth sense and the inherent feeling that _something _was amiss. But as she made her way to the door behind which lay a sleeping, bruised Quinn Fabray, Rachel managed to at least suppress her thoughts enough to focus on what she had to do – _be there _for Quinn.

_It's going to be ok_, Rachel thought as she pushed open the door.


	19. So Much

_A/N: This chapter is a shameless excuse for me to write a bit of fluff - no plot advancement at all, really. _

_Also, for people who were wondering - the chapter names are all song titles. They're songs from a playlist that I have (minus the Christmas tune), and I just flip through and see what fits with what I'm writing. It's a really good playlist though..._

_One last thing since I'm acting super chatty in this A/N - I don't have anyone beta read this for me. Once I write something, I'm too impatient to just send it out and be done with it. Any and all mistakes are my own. This goes for all past and future chapters._

_Enjoy. ^_^_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn slowly felt her senses returning. _It must be Sunday morning,_ she thought groggily. Except... No. No, there was no sound of her father calling to her. No smell of bacon. But yeah. She was definitely waking up. Sadly, that was all that Quinn understood clearly. Her mind was fuzzy.

And _fuck_, did her head hurt something awful.

At her first attempt to open her eyes, bright light assaulted her, and she was forced to resume her previous position - eyes firmly closed. Frustrated by whatever position it was in which she found herself, Quinn squeezed her fists.

She was surprised when someone squeezed her left hand back in response.

"Quinn?"

She heard her whispered name as if through a fog. But the fog was clearing. As it had in her strange dream. In her dream, Quinn had been met with the sight of Rachel running towards her as the fog lifted. Now, something wasn't computing. She clearly wasn't at home. In her bed. It wasn't Sunday morning. There was no bacon. Instead, her head was hurting pretty spectacularly. In fact - as she became more and more aware of her body - the _entire thing _felt pretty sore. There was quite a lot of pain actually.

And she still hadn't answered the voice. She really shouldn't be so rude. But what could she say? _Bring me some freaking Advil? _Somehow, that didn't really seem appropriate. Or less rude in anyway.

So instead, she moaned. It was really all she could do so far. She had never been a morning person. Whoever was trying to talk to her could surely understand that.

"Mmm arghhh..."

The person by her bedside giggled and said, "Well Quinn, I never knew how articulate you were while waking up. Very attractive, sweetheart."

Suddenly, Quinn knew who was talking to her. It wasn't overly difficult - her confused head was able to put the giggle and the voice together. It was Rachel. Quinn felt like smacking herself in the forehead. But her arms weren't strictly under her own control yet. Also - her head still hurt like a bitch. So she wasn't going to be doing that anytime soon.

But above everything else, Rachel had called her _sweetheart. _The Rachel in her dream - vision, hallucination, whatever it was - had called her sweetheart. Quinn suddenly realized that _in real life _it was 1000x better. Butterflies were flickering around, tickling her insides. She couldn't tell if she was grinning or not. Her face hurt a bit more than it had been hurting previously. Good Lord, was she grinning or not?

"I think you're faking it now - I can see that smile. Now, why don't you wake up and show me those beautiful eyes?"

Ahh. So she was smiling. Case closed.

And Rachel was asking her to open her eyes. She could do that, couldn't she? It wasn't supposed to be this difficult, surely. But it was hurting so much. Quinn could feel the ache from her toes to the very eyelids that she was trying so valiantly to force open.

"Quinn, what's wrong? Your forehead is wrinkling with whatever efforts or thoughts you're putting yourself through. It's ok, just take it slow. I didn't mean to rush you. Just open your eyes when you can. And know that I'll be waiting here for you."

What a sweet girl. Allowing Quinn to stop freaking out about the fact that she couldn't open her eyes... It was all very nice of her.

And then Rachel leaned forward slightly onto Quinn's hospital bed - and while Quinn knew that she was clearly on some kind of bed, she was still unaware that said bed was of the hospital variety, especially when it should _technically _be her bed at home. Without letting go of Quinn's hand, Rachel used her free hand to lightly stroke Quinn's hair back out of her face. She was touching Quinn so gently that - even though she couldn't see Rachel's actions - Quinn felt herself become overwhelmed with emotion.

_Leave it to me_, Quinn thought bitterly, _to be unable to open my eyes but __**fully **__capable of producing waterworks. Unbelievable!_

Rachel was still stroking Quinn's soft, golden hair when she leaned forward to lightly place a kiss against the battered girl's cheek. When she did so, she realized that her lips had come in contact _not_ with the dry, smooth skin of Quinn's soft cheek - but with the salty wetness of tears.

"Oh Quinn, please. What's wrong? If I was hurting you, I'm so, so sorry!"

Out of shear worry, Rachel pulled back. The last thing she wanted to do was cause more harm to the already bruised girl. But as Rachel went to lean back from the bed, Quinn's grip increased and she managed to say, "No," which caused Rachel to halt her movement.

Swallowing a couple of times, Quinn felt the dryness recede from the recesses of her mouth and throat. Feeling Rachel settle back in close to her - feeling the warmth radiating from the other girl - Quinn gave the whole 'attempting to speak' thing another shot.

Her tongue darted out, briefly wetting her lips. "Rachel?" she questioned.

Rachel gave her hand a squeeze and replied breathlessly, "Yeah. It's me."

Quinn smiled. "I had hoped that it was you." Rachel giggled and pressed her lips against the back of Quinn's hand, leaving a kiss there. "You're cute."

"How do you know I'm cute when you haven't opened your eyes this entire conversation?"

"Not sure that I can, actually."

Rachel kissed Quinn's hand again and smoothed back her hair lovingly. "Of course you can, silly. It's just a matter of sheer willpower."

"I really don't think it's that simple, Rach. I need motivation."

"Motivation?" Rachel questioned skeptically. Quinn only nodded in response. "Well, consider me your personal motivator. How can I motivate you today, Quinn?"

Quinn could practically hear the smirk in Rachel's voice. She almost opened her eyes right then - just to catch Rachel in the shameless act of _smirking_. But she resisted the urge. Instead, she thought about Dream Rachel - the Rachel who defied most of the laws of physics... And sanity. The Rachel who had told Quinn to stop wasting time.

It was time to act.

"You can kiss me," Quinn said. Her voice was hardly above a whisper. She felt the tiny hand that was wrapped around her own clench slightly.

Rachel gasped. She couldn't help it. They had been dancing around each other for weeks now - the touches, the _blatant_ flirting. Was it not obvious to Rachel that Quinn wanted something more? Was it not obvious to _Quinn _that _Rachel _felt the same way_?_ It had to be. Otherwise, why would Quinn have asked what she had just asked of Rachel? It was all very curious...

And while Rachel was busy thoughtfully contemplating the situation, Quinn was left in complete silence with nothing but the echo of Rachel's gasp ringing in her ears. She had overstepped. She had misjudged. She had completely overestimated whatever relationship she thought that she had with Rachel. Sure - Rachel had told her that she was physically attracted to girls. But Quinn had taken 'girls' to mean 'girls in general, _Quinn in particular_' and ... And clearly she had been wrong. Rachel didn't like her that way.

_Damn you, Dream Rachel! _Quinn cried out in mental anguish. _How could you mislead me in such a horrible way? _It was all very much beginning to resemble a nightmare rather than some (weird) fairytale. And Quinn was again at the beginnings of waterwork production.

Until - like the breath of an angel - Rachel's lips lightly touched Quinn's.

Rachel had imagined this moment many times over the course of the past semester. Through her Seduce Finn Stage - through her torment - through the revelation of her pregnancy - through _everything.._. Rachel had imagined what it would be like to kiss Quinn. She thought that she would possess the coherence and sound mind during the kiss to take mental notes - compare what little technique she had developed with Quinn's, compare Quinn's kisses with Finn's...

But really, Rachel simply found herself completely overwhelmed with the soft feeling of Quinn's lips against hers. The way Quinn's sweet breath was mixing with Rachel's own. The way their lips moved in a natural battle against each other - a battle that no one was particularly trying to win, but a battle nonetheless.

Quinn had kissed boys before. Hell, Quinn had kissed Brittany and Santana _both _during a drunken game of truth or dare at Puck's house last semester. She had obviously kissed Finn, though she may have allowed Brittany to get a little further around the bases than even him... And she had (also, drunkenly) kissed Puck at a _different _party over the summer. And maybe Mike Chang as well. Things got a little fuzzy after a while. But the bottom-line remained: Rachel Berry's smooth, delicious lips were _far _more extraordinary that anyone else's Quinn had _ever _had the privilege of tasting before.

It was phenomenal - mind-blowing - life-altering.

Rachel finally pulled away - just enough that her lips were still ever-so-slightly brushing against Quinn's - and she let out a shaky breath. As she opened her eyes slowly, she was met with the heavy-lidded gaze of Quinn.

"Hi," Rachel breathed out, her voice almost inaudibly quiet.

"Hi," Quinn replied.

Rachel's hand came up, gently stroking Quinn's hair once again. She began to place light kisses on Quinn's cheek. The moment was exceptionally soft - sweet and loving and _perfect _- and neither of the girls were particularly eager to leave it behind.

But reality always has its ways of catching up with the moment - no matter how unforgettable and charming the moment has been.

"Rach..."

At Quinn's confused tone, Rachel immediately perked up, looking the blonde in the eyes and questioning her as to what was wrong. "Yes, baby?" she asked while sitting on the edge of Quinn's bed and holding tightly onto her hand.

Quinn giggled.

"What's so funny?" Rachel asked, a grin gracing her lips.

"You called me 'baby,' and it was really, really precious."

"Well, it was only because I was incredibly happy to have just kissed you. Also, I finally get to see your gorgeous eyes. I kind of feel like I'm in a win-win situation here. So I felt the indubitable desire to call you by the aforementioned pet name. What I did _not _mean to do was so effectively derail your train of thought." Quinn looked at her questioningly, a single eyebrow arched in confusion. "You were going to ask me a question, _baby._"

The emphasis on the last word caused Quinn to blush instead of giggle this time. And then she remembered with sudden, shocking clarity what she had been about to ask.

"Rach, why exactly am I in the hospital?"


	20. Come Away With Me

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"And why does my entire body feel like I was run over by a car?" Quinn's eyes instantly took on a comedically wide look. "Oh my God. Was I run over by a car?"

Rachel had to suppress the urge to giggle. "No, Quinn. You weren't _exactly _run over by a car. You _were_ in an accident though."

Too many thoughts started running through Quinn's head when she heard the words leave Rachel's mouth. _Was anyone else hurt? Was the accident her fault? Why had she even been driving?_ It wasn't that her thoughts were fuzzy or mucked up - there was simply nothing there. It was blank and black and unsure. Quinn couldn't remember anything from that afternoon.

Nothing at all.

"Calm down, Quinn," Rachel said while lightly squeezing Quinn's hand. The blonde had started breathing in short gasps, suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that she was lacking a huge gap in her memory. "I don't know enough details to fill in any gaps for you. I just know that you were driving - probably to meet Santana, Brittany, and me at the mall - and you were in an accident. You have only been here for maybe an hour or two at the most. You don't have any broken bones. You have a slight concussion. And you're bruised pretty much all over your body. That's why you're hurting so much. I'm sure that your mom has more information about exactly what happened. She was in the waiting area when the three of us arrived."

"My mom's here?"

"Yes, I can go get her right now if you want -"

"No, don't leave me," Quinn breathed out. "Please."

Rachel leaned down and lightly brushed her lips against Quinn's forehead before resting her head gently against Quinn's. "Of course, baby. I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to. I promise."

Quinn let her eyelids flutter closed slowly. It felt good to have Rachel next to her. Holding her hand. Touching her hair. Reassuring her and comforting her and protecting her. Not that there was anything she needed protection from at this point.

Right?

Quinn wanted answers. But she was content, for the time being, to simply _be _with Rachel. Rachel... Her friend? Her... girlfriend?

_Headache, _Quinn thought. _These questions can wait._

It was only a few minutes - in which the girls sat in amicable silence - before there was a soft knock on the door. Both girls' heads turned to see who it could be. A doctor in blue scrubs with a long, white coat (typical doctor garb, _obviously_) walked over to Quinn's bedside with a clipboard in his hand.

"Hello, Quinn. I'm Dr. Adams. How are you feeling?"

"Uhh... My head hurts." Her eyebrows furrowed briefly in thought before correcting herself. "No, my _face_ hurts. And really, my _entire body _kind of feels like a disaster."

Dr. Adams just nodded in understanding. "Yes, your body has been through quite a trauma. You are incredibly lucky that no bones were broken. I've just finished reading the accident report. Are there any questions you would like to ask?"

"Yeah. I mean, I honestly don't remember a single thing. It's like the memory of this afternoon is completely gone. What actually _happened_?"

"Ahh yes. I was afraid that your concussion may have the repercussion of slight short-term memory loss. In the case of accidents such as what you've gone through today, this is common. Just let me assure you, this slight memory loss is nothing to worry about. I can tell you about the accident. You've probably only lost memories from today, so I hope that it isn't too much of an issue."

Quinn simply nodded for him to continue.

"From what the police on the scene were able to gather, it appears that you were sitting at a stoplight waiting to turn left. Another car approached the stoplight from behind you, and was unable to stop because of the ice. This person rear-ended you with quite a lot of force. Both you and the car that hit you careened into the intersection. Since your car was in front, it sustained the most damage. Two cars going through the intersection hit your car - one hit the back of your car on the driver's side, and the other hit the front of your car on the passenger side. There was another car involved in the accident - they managed to almost skid to a complete stop before they hit the car that initially hit you. Out of all the people involved in this accident, you have sustained the most injuries, Quinn. And you were very lucky to have come out so well. Everyone else was able to walk away, while you were knocked unconscious."

"That's... That's good. I'm glad no one else was hurt."

"Indeed," the doctor was contemplatively checking over Quinn's chart. He placed his pen to his lips, his brow furrowed. He glanced up at the girl - the slightly _worried_ girl, at this point - and then looked back down at the clipboard in his hands. He placed the chart at the end of Quinn's hospital bed and approached her. "May I?" he asked, indicating her hand.

She just nodded in response, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

Dr. Adams lifted her wrist delicately. He lightly touched some of the bruises that were marring the girl's skin, up to her upper arm. Rachel watched on - a sickening feeling in her stomach at the sight of the many bruises. After he had thoroughly checked Quinn's arm, the doctor placed it back by her side.

And then he approached the head of Quinn's bed. Rachel looked at his face - his eyes were acutely focused on Quinn's face. More specifically, the bruises that were residing there.

They were much darker, much more pronounced. Multi-colored patches of skin as compared to the just-surfacing bruises along her arm. Rachel mentally cringed just imagining how hard Quinn must have hit her face on the steering wheel to receive such bruises.

But there was something else in the doctor's eyes. Something wasn't adding up for him. But he wasn't speaking. Neither Rachel nor Quinn knew what was going through his mind. And Rachel was just about to speak when door burst open - only to reveal a severely flustered-looking Russell Fabray.

Quinn's head snapped towards the door.

"Daddy," she breathed.

He didn't respond vocally. Instead, he slowly stepped forward. He released his hold on the door as he did so. Rachel watched it fall closed slowly, clicking into place and blocking her sight of the hallway beyond it.

When he got to his daughter's bed, he just stood there. Rachel had tried to step back out of the way, but Quinn's grip had tightened on her hand. However, Russell noticed this - and his lip began to curl upwards in disgust. Rachel started to open her mouth to address his behavior, but her words were lost in her throat when she felt Quinn hastily drop her grip on Rachel's hand.

This action caused a pain to blossom within Rachel's chest. _Is she ashamed of me? _Rachel thought. _Well... I guess I can't blame her if she is. I wouldn't exactly want to introduce my pregnant girlfriend... Friend... __**Whatever **__I am, to my father. Not like this._

Quinn saw the hurt look cross Rachel's face, but she had to ignore it. Her father had no idea that she was even friends with Rachel - let alone that Rachel had just _thoroughly _kissed Quinn, nor that Quinn had _thoroughly _enjoyed said kiss. She didn't know how he would react. She didn't want to see him throw any kind of temper tantrum now. Or later. When he had Quinn alone. No ideal situation could arise from her father finding out about the girls' relationship, really. She would apologize to Rachel later.

Russell's entrance had successfully dampened the lovey-dovey connection Quinn and Rachel had been sharing, but it also distracted Dr. Adams from further deciphering whatever his gut instincts were telling him about the bruises and swelling on Quinn's face.

"Ahh. Mr. Fabray, I presume? I'm Dr. Adams, I've been overseeing the care of your daughter," the doctor said, holding his hand out to shake Mr. Fabray's.

Seemingly shaken out of whatever trance he had been in, Russell accepted the doctor's hand, quietly thanking him for taking care of Quinn.

For the rest of the time they were all in the room - Dr. Adams explaining Quinn's accident and injuries entirely, and Quinn silently watching the one-sided exchange between the two men and nervously chewing on her lip - no one looked Rachel's way. She was left feeling small and invisible.

"When can she come home?" Russell asked, abruptly ending the doctor's spiel.

Dr. Adams looked slightly caught off guard initially, but soon recovered. "Her vitals have been steady since she was admitted. With no serious injuries, I don't see why she can't go home as soon as you are ready to take her." He smiled down at Quinn. She smiled back sheepishly.

Something in Rachel's chest felt sick.

Like, seriously ill. Maybe it was Mr. Fabray's attitude since he had walked in the door - an air of detachment. Rachel was sure that he had only _just _managed to disguise his disgust when he had seen Quinn's fingers interlaced with her own.

Something about the situation felt entirely wrong.

"Excellent. I'll go fetch your mother. We'll be back for you in a few minutes."

"Ok, Daddy," was Quinn's subdued reply.

Russell left the room. Dr. Adams made a last set of notes to Quinn's chart before wishing her well and departing.

Alone in the room at last, Rachel sat on the edge of Quinn's bed. Quinn still hadn't looked at her, and her hands were clenched at her sides. Rachel slowly reached out, tenderly tracing her fingers down Quinn's wrist and along the tight curve of Quinn's fist. "Quinn," she said quietly. "Why don't you come home with me?"

This finally seemed to get Quinn's attention - at least, it had finally warranted some response other than an averted gaze and stony silence. "I-I can't, Rachel. He obviously wants me to come home. I'm probably in trouble for wrecking the car. I don't even know if it's salvageable. It's most likely totaled. He's going to be angry..." Quinn trailed off, beginning to contemplate her thoughts only in her mind.

"Quinn, I really think it would do you some good. Santana and Brittany could come over as well. We'll have a girls' weekend in and pamper you the entire time." Rachel smiled brightly and managed to persuade a small grin from Quinn. "I'll take care of you," she said, a bit quieter than before - but with no less sincerity. _Please, __**please**__ just come home with me, Quinn. Please._

"I don't know, Rachel. It's up to my father."

Rachel only nodded in response, knowing that she had lost this fight before it had even begun.

As their conversation was ending, a small party walked through the doors - Santana, Brittany, and Mr. and Mrs. Fabray.

"Quinn!" Brittany squealed before bouncing towards Quinn's bed, tears in her eyes and in perfect form to jump onto Quinn - luckily, Santana caught her around the waist and hauled her back, stopping her just in time to keep the blonde from squishing the bruised girl. Quinn's eyes were wide, but she managed to mouth 'thank you' to Santana. Santana just brushed off her shoulder in response before winking saucily at Quinn. "I'm so glad you're ok, Quinn," Brittany said, a bit breathlessly.

"Me too, B, it's all good here. Just a little sore, you know?" Brittany just nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I'd hate to see something unfortunate happen to you, Q. What on earth would the Cheerios do if I was promoted to Captain? Wet themselves, probably," Santana scoffed. "Can't have that, for obvious reasons."

Russell and Judy had simply stayed back from all of the girls, watching the scene unfold. Russell had barely concealed his rage when, upon walking back into the room, he had seen that _dyke _with her hands on his _daughter_. It was a _complete disgrace_, and he was sickened. It was only the touch of his wife's hand on his wrist that kept him from throwing the girl from his daughter's bed.

So when Quinn quietly asked if he would mind terribly if she spent the night with Santana, Brittany, and _Rachel, _he was yet again barely able to control himself.

If he had spoken, he may have blown whatever semblance of normalcy he had been able to maintain throughout this entire travesty. So instead, Judy spoke for him.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Quinnie. I think you need to be home right now. It's been a hard day on everyone.

Quinn simply hung her head in defeat. She felt Rachel squeeze her hand, and she looked up into the brunette's eyes - there, she saw love and tenderness. The weekend was almost over. She would see Rachel at school on Monday. She was alive and healthy and she had friends and family who loved her.

Everything was going to be ok.

* * *

The drive home was silent in the Fabray's vehicle. The radio was off. No one was talking. Quinn sat in the backseat with her cheek pressed against the ice-cold window - the cold window and the bottle of painkillers in her pocket were working in tandem to help suppress the pain that Quinn was feeling in her face.

Russell slowly pulled into their driveway. No one seemed to want to make a move to exit the car for a few moments. Finally, Judy opened her door and headed inside. Quinn followed her - very carefully attempting not to slip on the ice under her feet.

She opened her front door and carefully closed it behind her once she realized that her father was nowhere close to making it inside.

She shrugged off her coat and placed it on its hanger. Then, suddenly, something caught her attention in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped to the hall table. Her iPod was lying there - earbuds perfectly wrapped around it, just as she had left it.

Just as she had left it.

Flashes began to assault her vision. Walking towards the stairs. Russell's voice calling to her. Her laptop, smashing against the wall. His fist against her face. Terror. Packing her bags, all of her belongings - gone.

She frantically moved forward, towards the opening to her father's study. And there - lying crushed and forgotten on the floor - were the broken remains of her laptop.

A horrified gasp escaped Quinn's lips, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the sobs that immediately began to wrack her body. She began to hyperventilate. _It's not safe here, it's not safe here, it's not __**safe**_, she kept repeating to herself, her thoughts all coming out in a rush.

She turned around, planning on running straight back out through her front door and to the safety of what was inevitably _anywhere _except _here._

Instead of the safety of escape, she was met with the immovable body of her father - a manic glint in his eyes.


	21. Screaming Infidelities

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Finn looked down at his cell phone. The words he was reading were attempting to soak into his thick skull, had been for the past fifteen minutes at least.

**Puck**: Dude Q was in an accident - she's at the hospital!

He couldn't really move. He was sitting in his bedroom. His Xbox controller was abandoned on the floor. Something just wasn't computing between his mind and his limbs.

After their breakup and subsequent confrontation, Finn and Quinn's interactions had been sparse at best. Rachel had kind of seen to that...

_

* * *

_

"Finn Hudson."

_She hadn't screamed his name. In fact, her voice was a bit lower in pitch and volume than normal. When Finn turned around to face the tiny brunette, he did so slowly. He wasn't entirely sure what she was confronting him about... But he had an idea. Puck had heard from Santana that the three Cheerios had spent the night at Rachel's Friday night - just a few short hours after he had ... Well, after Quinn had broken up with him._

_He tried to play it cool._

_"Hey Rach," he said, plastering his goofy, lop-sided grin on his face as he turned to her._

_"Oh, don't you 'hey Rach' me, you big bully," she replied while marching __**straight **__up to him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and pulling him down so that she could look directly forward into his eyes. "Now listen to me, __**Finn**__, and listen good." She pretty much hissed out his name from between her clenched teeth._

_He simply nodded, eyes wide, to indicate that he was __**for sure **__listening._

_"I don't know who you think you are. I don't know what __**right **__you think you have. But to treat a __**woman **__the way you did last Friday? Completely and utterly unacceptable, Finn. When I had heard what you did - when I __**saw **__the results with __**my own eyes**__, I was completely shocked. You __**hurt her**__, Finn. You hurt her. Are you proud of that? Can you accept that kind of behavior from yourself?" Rachel's voice had gradually shifted from simmering fury to simply mournful._

_Finn's eyes were downcast now. Still hunched over, he had placed his hands on his knees. A single tear had fallen from his face, and he angrily wiped it away. "I'm such an idiot," he mumbled into his own chest._

_Rachel released one of her hands from its hold on his shirt, and she pulled his chin up to enable her to look in his eyes again. "Yes, Finn. Yes, you are."_

* * *

Finn thought back to that day. After she had severely broken him down, Rachel had pulled him into a brief - but comforting - hug. She had told him - in her sweetest voice, with her most endearing smile gracing her lips - that if he _ever _did something ridiculous like that again, Santana's retribution would be _nothing _in comparison to hers.

Then she walked away.

Finn had effectively been behaving himself like a puppy with his tail between his legs for the last few weeks. He hadn't directly apologized to Quinn since.

But he decided that he would remedy that. Right now.

* * *

As he approached the hospital - deluxe box of chocolates in tow - he began to get nervous.

Maybe this wasn't exactly the greatest place to apologize. Maybe he should wait until Monday at school to talk to Quinn. Maybe...

_Maybe you should man up, dammit, _he finally thought to himself.

He made it through the sliding glass doors and approached the nearest nurses' station.

"Hello, how can I help you?" a lovely young nurse asked him.

"Uhh I'm actually looking for Quinn Fabray's room?"

"Ahh yes. Miss Fabray was actually just released. She left with her parents about 30 minutes ago."

"Oh, ok," Finn said, sounding slightly rejected. "Thanks."

Walking back to his car, he found himself faced with a decision. He had missed Quinn at the hospital - maybe he just wasn't meant to apologize today.

On the other hand... He knew where Quinn lived. They had made out on her sofa several times. The Christ Crusaders met there once a month as well.

He could stop by really quickly, drop off the chocolates, apologize, and be on his way.

Or he could simply go home. He would see her Monday at school, after all.

* * *

Quinn cried out in pain as her body hit the floor.

Her father wasn't drunk anymore. He had obviously taken the time to sober up. This physical abuse was no longer fueled by drunken rage. It was just pure, unadulterated _fury_. As Quinn realized this, she simultaneously came to the conclusion that he genuinely wanted to be cognizant while he did this to her.

While he beat her.

He didn't say a word. He didn't really need to. She knew why he was doing this. She remembered her laptop - the words she had written, the words he had found. He would never accept that lifestyle. That 'choice.' He would never accept a daughter who chose to love the daughter of someone else. Another girl.

_Disgusting_, he had said.

Was that what Quinn was? When she was with Rachel - when she felt butterflies and became light-headed with happiness - was that wrong? Was Quinn disgusting? Was Rachel disgusting?

This last thought - of Rachel ever possessing the descriptor of 'disgusting' - shook Quinn out of the dark corner of her mind she had been forced into. _Of course_ Rachel wasn't disgusting. There was nothing disgusting about her. She was perfect, she was beautiful, she had the voice of an angel. Rachel had kissed Quinn, and Quinn had never felt more _perfect _in all of her life.

Rachel was _perfect. _Quinn and Rachel _together _was perfection. Quinn was _not _wrong.

Her father was wrong.

Quinn no longer possessed the coherence of mind to try and run from her father. Her mother - who Quinn had deemed an absolute _coward_ at this point - was hiding upstairs with a drink and music playing to cover up Quinn's screams of agony. The only thoughts that Quinn could hold onto any longer were thoughts of Rachel.

_Rachel._

How Quinn wished she could be with her right now...

Curled into the fetal position, Quinn tried to ward off the blows that wouldn't stop falling. From every direction, it seemed. With increasing severity. A blow to her back caused her to unlock her knees from her stomach and roll partially onto her back. Russell promptly kicked her - with the might of a full-grown man - in the side.

Quinn screamed.

* * *

Finn had made up his mind. It was now or never. Quinn was probably pretty shaken up from her accident. And it would probably do her some good to see a somewhat-friendly face.

Right?

Well, he hoped so at least.

He parked on the curb near Quinn's house. He crunched through the snow in the Fabrays' front yard and then nearly slipped on the ice that still laced the walk that lead directly to the front door. He dropped the chocolates.

"Oh! Crap," he mumbled as he bent down to pick them up. He quickly brushed the snow and wetness off of the box with his sleeve before finally stepping up to the front door.

His finger reached out to prod at the doorbell.

But then he heard something that chilled him to the bone - a sound that he didn't question for a single second. It was Quinn. And she was screaming.

Without even hesitating, Finn roughly grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.

He was met with the sight of Russell Fabray bending down to pick up his daughter. Finn could plainly see that Quinn's lip was busted and bleeding - blood seeping down her face. Her body looked like nothing but a crumpled mess. Her face was masked in a grimace of pain. Her eyes didn't even turn to focus on Finn when he walked through the door. Finn wasn't sure if she even could.

But her father saw Finn. And Finn sure as hell saw what Russell Fabray was doing. Lots of people call Finn 'slow,' but his reaction to the sight of Mr. Fabray _beating Quinn _was instantaneous.

The box of chocolates was thrown to the floor as Finn surged forward. Quinn was roughly dropped back to the floor - where she attempted to push herself as close to the wall of the hallway as she could. It didn't matter much though - as soon as Finn got his hands on Russell Fabray, he threw him into the open study.

Russell landed on the worn, wooden table in the room. It smashed into a hundred pieces.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing to her?" Finn roared.

At that point, Finn became a man of few words. Russell lay prone on the floor, lying in the shards of wood from the broken table, and Finn jumped on him - straddling the older, heavier man around the waist and beginning to wail on him. Blow after blow, he struck the man in the face.

It wasn't long before Russell was an unconscious, bloody mess. Finn pushed himself up off the ground, shaking his hands out at his sides - his knuckles were mostly busted at this point. He gave Quinn's father one last hard kick in the ass before turning back to the injured girl who was still in the hallway.

He hurried over to her, dropping down onto his knees and lightly touching her shoulder. "Quinn?" he asked quietly.

She was shaking violently. Her breathing was ragged. Finn had been in fights before, and he was nervous that Quinn may have a broken rib (or two...or three).

The situation was far from ideal.

Quinn had only whimpered in response to Finn. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Finn reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed 911, briefly explained the situation, and then began to look through his contact list for a specific number. He quickly found what he was looking for and hit the call button.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

_Please just answer my call, you crazy ho_, Finn thought bitterly. _Please!_

During the fourth ring, someone answered.

"What do you want, Finnessa?"

"Santana!" he all but screamed into the phone. "Thank God you answered."

"Again I say - what do you want?"

"I'm at Quinn's," he started but was soon interrupted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing at Quinn's? I know that the dwarf warned you about that. You don't want to get on _my _bad side - but you sure as hell do _not _want to get on hers."

"Santana, please... Shut up. There's been an accident. It's Quinn -"

"I was with her earlier, I know."

"No, Santana! God! Just shut up! I came over to Quinn's house to bring her chocolate and to apologize for my stupid behavior from before. I heard her screaming -"

"You _**what?**_" Santana's voice had gone deathly quiet.

"Her dad, Santana. He was beating the crap out of her. She's hurt, really bad. I already called an ambulance, they're on their way. You should probably plan on meeting us at the hospital."

"What about her dad?"

"I took care of him. Trust me. I'll explain at the hospital. We just need to think about Quinn right now."

"Brit and I will get Rachel. We'll see you there."

"Ok. See you." Finn started to lower the phone from his ear, but Santana began to speak again.

"Oh, and Finn?"

"Yeah?" he asked hesitantly.

"Be safe." Santana ended the call. It wasn't much - but Finn knew that it was all Santana could give him without getting all emotional and touchy-feely. And Santana wasn't going to let herself get emotional with Finn.

Finn turned his attention back to the blonde mess next to him. He reached down and grabbed one of her tiny hands in his own enormous one. The sound of sirens was approaching in the distance.

"He won't hurt you again," Finn quietly murmured, leaning down close to Quinn's face. She gripped his hand loosely, lightly squeezing. "I promise, Quinn. I promise."

Finn didn't tell Quinn that '_it was going to be ok_.' He simply didn't know whether that was true or not.

_

* * *

_

A/N: I really, legitimately dislike Finn. I just felt like redeeming his past actions a bit. Russell is a fantastical enough villain for the entire story, I think.

Also - SHAMELESS PLUG INCOMING - check out my PezBerry fic I just posted. If that's your thing. ;-)


	22. Lullaby

_A/N: One last commercial - check out my PezBerry story (if you actually like PezBerry). K thanks. Enjoy this chapter._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

_Quinn's hand was firmly wrapped around the banister of the stairs. Her father was advancing towards her, his fist raised menacingly. _

_The door at the end of the hallway flew open. Russell stopped his advance on his daughter and turned to face the newcomer. _

_Quinn saw the short figure from underneath the outstretched arm of her father. _

_It was Rachel. _

_"You!" Russell yelled, advancing now on the pregnant girl instead of his own daughter - who lay prone on the ground, fear overtaking her entire body._

_Rachel was standing in the door, a pale light shone outside resulting in a halo surrounding her entire body._

_**My angel, **__Quinn thought._

_Rachel raised her finger, beginning to shake it in Russell's face._

_But it didn't stop him from backhanding her across the face - sending her spiraling downwards to the ground._

_He stepped over her immobile body and slammed the door, blocking out the light._

_"No!" Quinn screamed._

_But it was too late._

* * *

"No! Rachel!" Quinn gasped out. Her voice was raw. Her throat felt as if it was on fire. She tried to sit up - but found herself in an unfamiliar bed for the second time that day and with a fierce burn arching through her chest from her ribs. IVs attached her body to the machines by her head, and she found herself unable to move any further. That she was not in her own house provided little to no relief. What she had seen - what her fucked up mind had shown her - had felt too real, too raw.

Her heart had literally cried out from within her chest when she saw Rachel fall to the ground. Months ago - when she had ordered everyone to stop torturing Rachel, when she had held the small girl in her arms in the football stadium, when she had helped her pick out a beautiful yellow dress - Quinn had appointed herself as Rachel's protector. And in her dream - in her mind - she had failed horribly.

The tears were flowing freely down her face.

Quinn forced her eyes open, forced herself to take in her surroundings. She had already discerned that she was in the hospital. Yet again. It was dark. The single window in her room showed that it was clearly nighttime. She glanced around, searching for a clock somewhere on the wall.

11:24 PM

Quinn sniffled. She wasn't sure when she had been brought to the hospital, but it was clear that visiting hours were long over.

She was alone in the room. Nothing but a hospital gown and thin sheets covering her bruised body. The beeping of the monitors next to her head was already beginning to grate on her nerves.

_It's better than absolute silence though_, Quinn reasoned.

Unfortunately... It was still awfully quiet. And Quinn's thoughts immediately began to wander. Her mind was playing tricks on her. The shadows became looming figures in the darkness. Quinn was scared. And she felt silly and young and naive to admit that to herself. _You're 16 years old, Fabray. Get it together._ But still, she curled her fists into the material resting over her. She pulled the covers up under her chin, unable to really force her eyes closed. She wasn't tired - too much adrenaline was pumping through her veins.

Quinn decided that it was really terrible that she had woken up alone.

Another minute ticked by on the large digital clock above the door. Quinn sighed. _It's going to be a long night_. But her thoughts were interrupted when the door handle began to turn a few feet away from Quinn's head. Her eyes immediately snapped to the doorframe, trying to catch sight of whoever was entering. A nurse. A friend. Maybe her older sister had come home?

Her... Her father?

The door swung quietly open, and Quinn very nearly heaved a great sigh of relief when she realized that it wasn't her father. Far too short.

The figure had squeezed inside, turned back and ever so slowly closed the door. They were trying not to make any noise, Quinn realized. They were trying not to wake her.

Quinn's eyes had adjusted to the darkness by this point, but her visitor's eyes had not. She soon recognized that it was _Rachel._ Beautiful, perfect Rachel. Quinn couldn't have been happier.

The pregnant girl was holding a small styrofoam cup, clutching it in both of her hands now, attempting not to spill a single drop as she quietly tip-toed to the other side of Quinn's bed. Quinn mercifully waited until Rachel had placed the steaming cup of whatever down on her bedside table before she softly said, "Hey."

"Oh!" Rachel quietly gasped before standing straight up - she had been preparing to resume her watch over Quinn from the (obnoxiously uncomfortable) hospital-provided chair next to the bed. "Quinn?" she questioned in a whisper, sitting down gingerly on the edge of Quinn's bed. Rachel's hand reached up and lightly cupped Quinn's cheek, stroking away the residual wetness with her thumb. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

Quinn brought both of her hands up to clutch at Rachel's.

She no longer had to be scared. She no longer had to worry about spending the night alone - afraid - thinking of all the ways that her father could get to her... Or to Rachel. And since she was no longer afraid of what could _potentially _happen, her thoughts shifted to what had _already _happened. And she began to break apart.

Heavy sobs caused her whole upper body to shake. She pressed Rachel's hand to her lips, desperate to find comfort in the feel of the other girl's skin against her own. She clenched her eyelids shut - but immediately opened them again as horrific images from the entire day began to flash through her mind. She grasped at Rachel's wrist, pulling the other girl closer to her.

"I'm right here," Rachel mumbled against the side of Quinn's face. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Rachel placed her free hand on Quinn's hair, lightly stroking it, attempting to gently sooth the crying girl. "Can you scoot over just a bit for me?" Rachel questioned. Still sobbing - though less so - Quinn obliged, scooting over as best she could to allow more room for Rachel.

Rachel didn't miss the wince that cross Quinn's face as she moved over.

Rachel moved to lay down next to Quinn - never forcing Quinn to release her fierce grip on Rachel's hand. She lay on her side, propping her head up with her free hand, elbow resting on the bed. Rachel proceeded to stare lovingly at Quinn's bruised face. Quinn stared off into the distance, her eyes slightly glazed over, lost in her thoughts.

"Hey," Rachel quietly whispered. Quinn blinked, and her eyes turned to Rachel. She swallowed thickly as she turned and looked Rachel in the eyes. The corners of her lips attempted to lift upwards in a smile. "Are you thirsty?" Rachel asked. Quinn nodded.

Rachel slowly extracted her hand from Quinn's, gently touched it to the other girl's cheek, and then rolled over - reaching for the glass of water she had poured for herself earlier (before getting distracted and heading off in search of some form of caffeine). Turning back to Quinn, cup in hand, she helped the girl lean forward just enough to take a few sips of the cool, soothing liquid.

Rachel placed the cup back on the bedside table before turning back to Quinn. A look of discomfort was clearly written on Quinn's features.

"Hurting?" Rachel asked.

Quinn nodded. "My ribs feel like they're on fire."

Rachel resisted the urge to fume in anger - resisted the urge to find and dismember Russell Fabray. Instead she brought her hand back up to Quinn's face, again proceeding to stroke the girl's soft skin and remove any trace of tears from her face. Quinn's hand again found Rachel's wrist, leaving Rachel's hand free to continue to caress her, but holding firmly onto the girl so as not to let her move away.

"Yes well, you have a couple of broken ribs, baby. They're wrapped right now, but there is still going to be discomfort. Let's just try to keep you as still and as comfortable as possible, ok?"

Quinn had been through a lot. She had suffered a great deal in just a few hours, and she knew it. The thought of smiling - of being happy and openly expressing it in any way - seemed completely foreign and misplaced and _wrong_. But she couldn't help it when Rachel called her '_baby_,' as Rachel held her gently in her arms, as Rachel provided stability and love and warmth and safety.

"I like that," she whispered softly.

"You like what?" Rachel replied, just as softly. She leaned forward slightly and kissed Quinn's forehead.

"You. You calling me 'baby.' You kissing my forehead. I don't feel like I should be this happy right now. I don't feel like I should be capable of experiencing that emotion _at all _- right now or tomorrow or anytime soon, not after what happened today. But just having you next to me is making life about a thousand times better. Is... is that awful?"

Rachel appeared to think about it for a moment. "I think... That you've been through more in one day than _anyone _should have to go through in a lifetime. What has happened to you is absolutely _not _fair and _not _ok. I am so, _so _glad that I am able to be here for you right now, Quinn. I'm so happy to be next to you, touching you, holding you, knowing that you're ok, that you're going to be ok. And that I'm going to make sure that happens. If me being here to protect you makes you happy and smile? On a day like this? Baby, that's a beautiful thing."

Quinn released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. It came out as a mix between a cough and a laugh and a sob. She was still smiling.

Rachel thought she looked more beautiful than ever, laying there beside her. She leaned forward, pressing her lips lightly against Quinn's. One of Quinn's hands slipped from Rachel's arm to her neck, softly holding Rachel in place. Their lips would move gently together and then break apart, a little space between them - before they would reconnect. It was soft and slow and full of passion. It was beautiful and delicious and delicate. When they finally broke apart - foreheads resting against each other - their lips were still touching, their breath was mingling. Eyes fluttered closed.

"You're so beautiful and so perfect, it _hurts_." Rachel's words softly caressed Quinn's lips. Quinn pushed her head forward slightly, drawing Rachel into another brief kiss. "And, oh my gosh, your lips are probably the softest things I have ever felt in my life. Ever."

Quinn giggled, pulling back slightly to look at Rachel. "Seriously?" she questioned.

Rachel nodded. "Seriously."

"Good," Quinn said, replacing her hands on Rachel's forearm and lightly stroking the skin under her fingertips. "By the way," Quinn questioned, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I'm obviously glad that you're here, but... How exactly are you _here_? I know that the hospital has specific visiting hours. And no matter what you say, I _know _that they didn't extend your visiting hours past midnight because you '_asked nicely_.'"

Rachel's mouth dropped open mockingly, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. "Quinn!" she quietly exclaimed. "That you would ever insinuate that I would pressure the staff to allow me special privileges is absolutely _absurd_," she paused, lifted her chin slightly and then said, "and yet, _shockingly _accurate."

Quinn giggled again. Rachel smiled at the happiness that she could feel radiating from the girl next to her. She let out a quiet laugh herself - her own happiness bubbling over before she could contain it.

"So?" Quinn questioned.

"So what?"

"_So_..." Quinn drawled. "How exactly did you do it?"

"Ahh," Rachel took a deep breath. "Well, I was actually afraid that my own tactics weren't going to work. I seemed to manage a step forward only to be pushed back two... And then Coach Sylvester came along."

"Coach Sylvester?" Quinn questioned.

Rachel nodded. "Coach Sylvester."

_

* * *

_

It was five thirty in the evening. Visiting hours were going to be officially closed in one hour. Rachel absolutely had to find a solution to this roadblock before then. She refused to accept that Quinn could potentially wake up in the middle of the night - alone, confused, scared. Rachel

_**had **__to be given allowance to stay._

_Or else she was going to take Santana up on her offer to help sneak Rachel in after hours._

_The other glee club members were all sitting across the room in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs. Mr. Schuester was pacing up and down. Mike and Matt were talking in hushed voices with Tina and Artie. Kurt and Mercedes were busy texting like mad. Santana and Brittany were sitting on one of the two available couches - Brittany's head was laying in Santana's lap while Santana lightly stroked the blonde's hair._

_Santana had been watching the exchange between Rachel and the head nurse - the clearly unrelenting head nurse. About ten minutes previous, Santana had whipped out her cell phone and sent out a single text. She was sure that the receiver of the text would be appearing at any moment..._

_Within moments, Santana heard the glass doors slide open. Her head snapped over. As she had expected, Sue waltzed into the hospital as if she owned the place._

_"... And my personal relationship with the ACLU warrants that you __**seriously **__reconsider the decision that you have so __**obviously **__rushed into without even considering the ramifications -"_

_"Berry," Sue walked up, placing a hand on Rachel's shoulder. Rachel's eyes widened, but she immediately stopped talking. "That's better," Sue remarked before turning to the nurse behind the counter. "Now," she began. "You will allow this young lady to stay with Miss Quinn Fabray overnight. No further questions will be asked. If there is any issue, you can personally contact the hospital administrator - tell him that Sue Sylvester says... Hello."_

_The nurse blinked once before she sighed and waved her hand dismissively at the pair._

_As Sue and Rachel turned away from the desk, Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but Sue cut her off. "No need to thank me. I'm doing this for Q." Sue turned again to walk away. Passing the glee kids, she addressed them - "Mouthbreathers" - and Santana and Brittany were acknowledged with slight nods in their direction - "S, B" - and Mr. Schuester, a slight curl of disgust across her lips - "William." And then she was gone._

* * *

"I'm sorry that I wasn't here when you woke up," Rachel mumbled into Quinn's hair.

Quinn was finding it exceedingly hard to keep her eyes open. They were fluttering closed. Darkness was engulfing her. But Rachel was next to her. She was safe - Rachel was safe.

"It's ok," Quinn managed to say as sleep began to overcome her. "You're here now."

Rachel softly began to sing. As Quinn slept, she dreamt of Rachel and her beautiful voice.

"_I know that you're tired,  
__Just let me sing you to sleep..."_


	23. Can't Help Falling In Love With You

A/N: Little different format. The 'days' are simply indicating each day after the night Quinn and Rachel spent in the hospital.

_Please note - this will probably be the last update for at least a week or so. Fair warning._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**Day 1**

Finn had been released from police headquarters the previous evening after being thoroughly questioned about the circumstances that had taken place at the Fabray household. Russell Fabray tried to file charges against him. The chief of police had laughed in his face.

Puck wasn't at the hospital with the rest of the glee kids, Santana later found out, because he had been busy slashing the tires on the Fabrays' vehicles.

Despite Puck's sabotage - and despite the fact that there was an open warrant for the arrest of both Russell and Judy Fabray - Quinn's parents disappeared overnight. No one knew where they went. Or whether or not they would be coming back anytime soon.

The glee kids and her fellow Cheerios had showered Quinn with 'Get Well Soon' cards, balloons, stuffed animals (a stuffed duck from Brittany), and a 6-pack of Red Bull from Puck. Marcus and Brendon had already shuffled all of these gifts off to their home - to Quinn's new home.

Rachel's dads had also been to the auto-repair shop where Quinn's car had been taken. Upon seeing her car - smashed and broken - Brendon had valiantly tried to hold back his tears, but to no avail. Marcus had simply wrapped his arms around his husband and whispered quietly, "I know, love. I know." They had retrieved Quinn's belongings - everything that had meant enough to the girl to grab during her moments of blind terror - and arranged them neatly in their guestroom along with all of the cards and balloons and stuffed animals.

When Quinn was released from the hospital the next day, only Santana and Brittany were there to represent the glee kids. Rachel had arranged it that way. Quinn was still very self-conscious about the fact that she had been physically abused - and that it visibly showed.

For Quinn, leaving the hospital was easy. It was the realization that she had no home that was difficult to take.

That night, Quinn crawled into her new bed at ten o'clock. Rachel leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Good night, beautiful girl," she had whispered. Quinn had just nodded and squeezed Rachel's hand in acknowledgement.

Rachel finished her bedtime routine and climbed into bed at 10:25.

By 10:40, Quinn had quietly crept into Rachel's room and into her comforting embrace. She cried herself to sleep, listening to the soft sounds of Rachel's melodious voice drifting over her.

**

* * *

**

Day 2

"You don't have to go to school today," Marcus and Brendon had reiterated. Quinn had simply nodded and gotten ready for school anyway. It took quite a lot of makeup to return her face to its picturesque beauty - bruises hidden away by layers of cover-up. Rachel drove them to school, and Quinn laced their fingers together over the gear shaft, but her eyes were turned to look out the window. Rachel brushed her lips against the knuckles of Quinn's left hand, and they headed into WMHS.

The first time a lumbering, clumsy jock bumped into Quinn in the hallway - effectively causing her to fall back against the nearest lockers with a painful grimace on her face - Santana beat him down so badly that she was sent home for the rest of the day. No one else bumped into Quinn.

After school glee rehearsal was rather morose. People kept trying to pat Quinn on the shoulder or draw her in for reassuring hugs - the problem was, Quinn didn't want to be touched (by anyone other than Rachel). People soon figured that out.

Rachel immediately enlisted the help of Brittany, Mike, and Matt - the best choreographers (not including Santana, since she was obviously not allowed back on school grounds yet) - to re-choreograph all three of their numbers for Sectionals. They completely changed the songs' accompanying dance moves so that Quinn would not be forced to over-exert herself or put any unnecessary strain on her broken ribs.

After glee rehearsal, Quinn cried on Rachel's shoulder in the empty choir room, a mumbled "thanks" lost in the skin of Rachel's neck.

That night, Quinn lasted until 10:42 before climbing into bed with Rachel. She cried herself to sleep while Rachel sang to her.

**

* * *

**

Day 3

During Quinn's second hour class - English - a Cheerio came by and insisted that Quinn was to report to Coach Sylvester's office at once. Quinn caught her eye, and the girl gave her a small smile.

As Quinn sat down in front of Coach Sylvester's desk - on the very edge of the chair since it hurt to scoot too far back - she found that she was incredibly nervous. _She's going to kick me off the squad_, Quinn thought to herself. She was sure of it. In her state, she was useless to Sue. However, the Coach surprised Quinn when she simply said, "Q, I don't want you to worry. I know that you are the best Cheerio I have on the squad. Your chart at the hospital indicated that you have 2 broken ribs on your right side." Quinn simply nodded. "By the time winter break is over, you will be going back to the doctor for a physical, but I anticipate that you will be ready for Cheerios' duty by then. If you think you're emotionally able to continue on as Head Cheerio, I want you to do just that. If not, you need to let me know. Nationals are two months after we come back from break, and I expect to see you at the top of my pyramid at the competition. Think you can handle that?"

Quinn had left the office with a smile on her face. Sue Sylvester wasn't as bad as a lot of people gave her credit for.

Glee practice continued. With Santana's return, everyone finally ironed out the last of the choreography details. The set-list was set in stone. The vocals were beginning to come together beautifully. Rachel was pleased.

Sectionals were in exactly one week.

Rachel found herself laying awake that night. The minutes were ticking by. She was nervous that Quinn would need her in the middle of the night, and Rachel wouldn't be able to hear her - because of the lawsuit from their neighbors, the Berrys had resorted to soundproofing Rachel's bedroom (her excessive singing was, at times, well... Excessive).

Her clock ticked over to exactly 10:55, and her door lightly swung open. She looked up and watched Quinn timidly approach her bed before gingerly laying down next to her. Quinn's eyes looked sleepy. Rachel simply kissed her on the forehead lightly and began to sing a song to her. That night, both girls fell asleep without tears in their eyes or on their cheeks.

**

* * *

**

Day 6

Quinn arrived at school early for Cheerios' practice. She did not perform the routines with the Cheerios, but she was an extra set of eyes down on the field amongst the girls. She would call out orders, correct positioning, and praise the squad when things went well. After practice, as everyone else was heading off to the locker rooms to shower, Sue passed Quinn and lightly placed her hand on the young girl's shoulder as she passed her.

When Rachel got to school, she had a steaming cup of coffee from the local Donut Shop a few blocks away. Quinn thanked her sweetly, squeezing her hand lightly as they linked pinkies - a habit that Santana called them out on _repeatedly_, claiming that they had stolen it from her and Brittany - and headed off towards class. "No problem, sweetie. I was craving donut holes," Rachel had supplied, rather bashfully, as her free hand lightly rested against her swelling stomach.

Quinn walked into her bedroom that night, fully prepared for Rachel to lightly kiss her on the forehead before heading into her own room - a charade that they had been acting out for the past several nights, really. Instead, Rachel grabbed Quinn's wrist before she could make it to her bed. Quinn found her body pressed flush against Rachel's as the shorter girl gently held her in her embrace. Quinn leaned down, and their foreheads touched lightly. "Come to my room," Rachel had said quietly before leaning up - slightly balancing on her tip-toes - and brushing her lips against Quinn's.

Five minutes later, they actually made it to Rachel's room. Ten minutes later, and both girls were passed out - Quinn lying serenely on her back with Rachel's head on her shoulder and her arm draped tenderly over Quinn's waist.

**

* * *

**

Day 8

Sectionals were in two days. It was Sunday, but the members of New Directions decided to meet up and have a dress rehearsal in the WMHS auditorium. Everything went remarkably well. The choreography was simple and beautiful and elegant - and not overly strenuous for Quinn (or Rachel, for that matter). The twelve kids' voices blended together brilliantly. The chemistry onstage between all of them was remarkable. Everyone was pleased.

Mr. Schuester gave them a one-man standing ovation after they were done - a proud, father-like smile on his face - and then took them all out for pizza. When Tina quietly asked Mr. Schue whether or not his wife would be joining them for their dinner out, he immediately became quite emotional and his eyes glazed over slightly before he replied, "No, Tina. It's just going to be us. One big, happy family." He ended his statement with a smile and a one-armed hug for the girl.

That night when Quinn and Rachel found themselves in bed together, they ended up staying up very late - talking about glee club and Sectionals and their set list and the dance moves. Finally, Quinn fell asleep as Rachel sang one of Quinn's favorite songs.

"_Like a river flows, surely to the sea,_

_Darling, so it goes,_

_Some things... Are meant to be..._"

Quinn's breathing was deep and even - less ragged than it had been previous nights, a sure sign that her ribs were healing well. Rachel leaned down, cupping Quinn's cheek - that had now returned to its previously pristine condition - and lightly kissed Quinn on the forehead. She kissed her over each of her closed eyelids. And she lightly kissed Quinn on the lips. Even in her sleep, Quinn slightly pushed her lips forward, accepting Rachel's kiss. Rachel laid down in her usual position with her arms embracing Quinn and sighed contently against the girl's skin.

As her own eyelids became heavy with sleep, Rachel quietly said, "I can't help falling in love with you, Quinn. It just kind of happened..."

**

* * *

**

Day 9

It was the day before Sectionals. The kids had agreed to an extra long after school rehearsal. However, since their set list numbers were virtually perfect at this point, the 'rehearsal' turned into more of a 'jam session.' Artie broke out some of his poetry, Tina performed a scream-o song to which there was much impromptu head-banging all around, and Mercedes performed a hip-hop song with Puck and Finn that was rather humorous.

That night at dinner (Chinese take-out), the four members of the Berry household (five if you included the tiny baby growing rapidly within Rachel's tummy) were all talking excitedly about what the next day would be like. The competition, the lights, the songs, the other show choirs. It was all very thrilling. Rachel had just launched into what was promising to be a long-winded rendition of the story that led to the kids' choice of "Don't Stop Believing" as their set closer when the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be?" Brendon questioned.

"Don't worry about it, I'll get it," Quinn said. "You guys need to listen to Rachel's story anyway."

As Quinn walked away from the table, she lightly ran her hand down Rachel's back. She was rewarded with a special smile from Rachel - a smile that Quinn was pretty sure Rachel only used on her. At least, she hoped that was the case.

She approached the front door and looked through the peephole. Not immediately recognizing the person standing on the other side - but also clearly realizing that they didn't pose any threat - Quinn slowly opened the door enough to clearly see and talk to the stranger on the doorstep.

"Hello," Quinn politely said. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can," the young man said, leaning forward slightly and extending his hand for Quinn to shake. "My name is Jesse St. James, and I was hoping to talk to Rachel Berry."


	24. Hello

_A/N: Still not back to daily updates, k? But I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

To his _minimal _credit, Jesse managed to wait patiently while Quinn seemed to contemplate his hand.

But really, she was contemplating more than just his hand. She was thinking back to a virtual conversation she had with Rachel weeks ago - though it seemed much longer than that now...

_**

* * *

Rachel Berry**  
Sunday, 7:49pm_

_Quinn,_

_I don't mind talking about it. After all, it's not something that I can necessarily classify as a non-event, you know?_

_He was relatively tall. Brown, curly hair. Green eyes. A great talker, obviously. And of course, I had heard of his reputation - onstage, of course. He is incredibly talented. Apparently he already has a full ride to UCLA next fall. _

_Bottom line, Quinn, is that Jesse St. James is the father of my baby. Whether I was drunk at the the time - whether I had been sober on some other night...What happened has happened and it can't be undone. _

_**Quinn Fabray**  
Sunday, 8:07pm_

_And if you ever see him again? What do you think it'll be like? How will you react?_

_**Rachel Berry**  
Sunday, 8:10pm_

_I don't know, Quinn. I really don't know... _

_It would be nice to know though, wouldn't it?_

_Unfortunately, I've come to learn recently that things aren't always as simple as A, B, and C. Or making a list of goals and checking them off one at a time. _

_**Quinn Fabray**  
Sunday, 8:27pm_

_You're right. Things just aren't that easy most of the time. _

_But sometimes they are. _

* * *

And in this moment - with the father of Rachel's baby standing in front of Quinn with his arm outstretched and a smooth grin on his face - Quinn realized that both she _and _Rachel had been correct. Sometimes 'the plan' will get inestimably screwed up. But sometimes it's as easy as A, B, C.

_A_

She grasped his hand in hers (though she found herself squeezing just a _tad_ harder than was perhaps strictly necessary).

_B_

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she said - a fiercely difficult mask of politeness held firmly in place.

_C_

"It's nice to meet you, Quinn," he replied. Quinn only nodded in response. The smile gracing her lips was anything but sincere. "So, is Rachel home?"

* * *

"So naturally," Rachel continued her story. "We simply _had _to use that song as our closer. When we perform it, it's almost as if you can _feel _the energy emanating from the group. It's quite incredible, I can't wait for you to see us perform. I was so excited to hear that Sectionals is open to the public! You'll get to see the official New Directions' first competition performance!"

"We're very excited, sweetheart," Marcus said sweetly as he lowered himself down onto the couch next to Brendon. They had all made their way into the living room from the dining room. Quinn had yet to join them.

"I'm also very excited for Mercedes. She's going to be performing quite an iconic piece."

Brendon and Marcus simply smiled while sipping on their respective cups of coffee and cappuccino. Rachel busied herself on the floor in front of their extensive movie collection. She was perusing the musicals - attempting to find one that they hadn't watched in at least a few months. Well... At least _one_ month.

"Uhh," Rachel heard from across the room, causing her to look up expectantly. "We have a -" Quinn's voice seemed to grate against the next word "-_ guest_."

Rachel (and Quinn and her fathers) knew that she had a penchant for the dramatic. She had shown them before, and she didn't fail to rise to this particular scenario spectacularly - she gasped loudly and covered her mouth with both of her hands, her eyes wide in disbelief. After an appropriately dramatic amount of time had passed, Rachel lowered her hands and quietly whispered (though everyone in the immediate vicinity heard her perfectly), "Jesse."

Brendon looked shocked as he finally realized who the young man was who was now standing slightly in front of Quinn in their living room.

Marcus looked angry.

Quinn looked like she wanted to be annoyed - instead, a concerned look found its way onto her face, directed towards Rachel.

Jesse was looking expectantly towards Rachel with a smile on his face - as if, simply because he was Jesse St. James, she should be excited to see him.

There was a brief pause - as if they were suddenly part of a terrible tv show - when no one moved, no one spoke. And then Jesse's gaze shifted from Rachel's and to the upright piano on one side of the room. He immediately began to move toward it. Rachel stood, a bit shakily, watching his every move while moving slightly in the same direction as him.

Rachel had thought a lot about Jesse since that night, since the party and the drunken sex. It was only natural, wasn't it? Even before she came to the realization that it was prudent to take a pregnancy test, she thought about him. He was her first. He took her virginity. For the rest of her life - with certainty - she could say that.

In the days after the party - when she was trying to hide her fried nerves from her dads - she had considered turning him into the police. It could have been considered rape, and Rachel knew this. But the days passed and Rachel knew that if she had been genuinely considering taking such an action, she would have done it already.

But then - when she found herself sitting in that supermarket bathroom, watching the pregnancy test turn to a brilliant pink "+" - she again realized that something should probably be done about him. But by now - with his unborn child in Rachel's stomach - Rachel came to the conclusion that, no, she didn't particularly want the father of her baby to have a record.

So she hadn't contacted police officials. She hadn't sought Jesse out personally. She had simply told her dads. What Marcus had done afterwards, she still didn't know. But no baby's father of hers was going to have jail time to mar his record. Even if that father wasn't involved in the baby's life.

And now - with Jesse showing up at her house unannounced and, frankly, unwelcome - Rachel was more unsure about things than ever before.

* * *

Quinn didn't particularly enjoy the rapt attention Rachel was giving the father of her unborn child. And she also didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of - she managed to pinpoint the emotion - _jealousy_? _Yuck_, Quinn thought to herself. _Not attractive, Fabray._

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately, Rachel. And I think this song will most accurately portray my innermost feelings and desires. I want you to see my heart, Rachel - my everything."

Across the room, Quinn made a fake gagging motion. Brendon chuckled behind his hand at her. _She's not falling for this_, Quinn thought. _There's no way..._

But the dear-caught-in-headlights expression on Rachel's face was speaking volumes - and it was directly contradicting Quinn's mental turmoil. _This is not ideal, _Quinn thought grumpily, a pout quickly adorning her features.

Jesse sat down at the piano and - with a _completely _unnecessary flourish, Quinn noted - placed his hands on the keys. He turned his head slightly towards Rachel, and he _winked._ Quinn shuddered and clenched her fists at her sides.

"_I've been alone with you inside my mind  
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips  
A thousand times.  
I sometimes see you pass outside my door.  
Hello.  
Is it me you're looking for?"_

Rachel legitimately enjoyed Grand Romantic Gestures. And a GRG that included serenading of said diva? Quinn saw the impeding disaster - perhaps before the situation even began to register in Rachel's mind. Jesse was talented. Even in the subpar acoustics of the Berry Living Room, Quinn knew that Rachel was going to be in awe of Jesse's performance. Hell, Quinn was in awe. His voice was ridiculously refined.

_Sly, suave bastard_, Quinn thought angrily. She crossed her arms and stuck her lip out even farther than before.

And when Rachel's voice began singing in time with Jesse's - when their voices blended together, lifting above the other occupants of the room in a beautiful harmony - Quinn seriously began to worry (while simultaneously allowing herself to be completely mesmerized by Rachel's beautiful voice). Also, her dislike - nay, her _hatred_ - of Jesse St. James was officially solidified.

_"I can see it in your eyes,  
I can see it in your smile.  
You're all I've ever wanted,  
And my arms are opened wide.  
Cuz you know just what to say,  
And you know just what to do,  
And I want to tell you so much..."_

It only took Quinn half a second to stride across the living room floor and slam the fallboard down over the keys - sadly, _not _onto Jesse's fingers (he was too quick for that). Quinn wasn't about to let Jesse utter the word 'love' in Rachel's general direction, not by a long shot. Even though she was without the satisfaction of smashing a finger or two (or 10, really), Quinn was pleased that she had elicited the desired effect - the 'l' word was avoided and whatever _trance _St. James had previously lured Rachel into, it was effectively broken.

"I agree with Quinn," Marcus said, standing up from the couch.

"Daddy," Rachel pleaded softly, not wanting her daddy to start a scene.

"It's fine, Rachel," Jesse said quietly.

He reached his hand out towards Rachel's. Just as their fingers were about to touch - and just as Quinn's last shred of patience was about to expire - Rachel stepped back ever so slightly, moving her hand to place it defensively against her obvious baby bump. Quinn mentally cheered.

"It's not exactly fine, Jesse," Rachel replied. "Why are you here? It's a big night - an important night. Something tells me that you know this. So it makes me genuinely curious as to why you would choose tonight - of all nights - to impose upon my family and me."

"I understand your hesitancy, Rachel. I really do." He paused and stood up, placing his hands on his hips as he contemplated his next words. Obviously, he had not counted on being interrupted before the song's end - a kink in his plan. He would just have to work around it. "But I'm a man, Rachel." He lifted his head up; he had previously been staring at the floor, and now his strong gaze was leveled directly at Rachel. "And I am more than capable of taking care of a child. I can take care of _you._ And I know that you -" he turned to Marcus "- told me to let Rachel come to me if she wanted to come to me, and I thought about that for a long time... But really, what reason would she ever have to come to me first?" He turned back to Rachel. "I understand why, perhaps, you haven't tried to get in touch with me. You didn't know how I would react. You didn't want to be rejected. You were afraid that - just maybe - I wouldn't even acknowledge your child's connection to me. But that's all false, Rachel." He took a step towards her. "I want to be part of this baby's life. If you'll let me..." He trailed off. By now, he was standing directly in front of Rachel, both of his hands outstretched - his gesture resembled something of a peace offering, a need for acceptance, _something_. Quinn held her breath as she waited in tense anticipation for Rachel's response.

Rachel took another step back and looked Jesse directly in the eye. "You're right, I didn't know how you would react. And no, I most certainly have never enjoyed the feeling of rejection. But I most certainly wasn't afraid that you wouldn't acknowledge your connection to me and this child. Because if you had done so for even a second, you would never see me or this baby again - and that's a promise." Quinn released her held breath. "And again, I find myself with a particularly important unanswered question: Why on earth have you chosen tonight - of all nights - to come see me?"

As this question was asked (again), the eyes of Quinn, Brendon, Marcus, and Rachel all drilled into Jesse's head - everyone was eagerly anticipating the response to this exact question.

Their eagerness was not misplaced - in fact, their curiosity was rewarded tenfold when St. James finally spoke.

Jesse's shoulders heaved in a deep sigh before he said, "I'm here tonight, Rachel, because I simply couldn't wait any longer to contact you. And neither could your mother."


	25. Revelry

_A/N: I found this chapter rather difficult to write, but mainly because - once I figured out where the Hell I was going with it - I wanted to get everything as perfect as possible. But I'm far from perfect, so hopefully it came out at least half-way decent._

_Thought about breaking this into two chapters simply because I'm allowed to do that. But I wrote it as one, so you get it as one. Enjoy._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Marcus was already on his feet. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. He forced himself to turn not towards the young man in front of him, as he so desperately desired, but towards the fireplace that resided on the opposite end of the room. He approached it quickly. His breathing was labored - forced, deep and even breaths flowing through his lungs and back out through his nose.

Marcus was angry. Not just at Jesse, but at himself. At himself and at Brendon and at _Shelby_ because she simply should have known better.

His eyes - which were previously as unfocused as his frantic and frustrated thoughts - finally landed on a picture on the mantle place. It was a photo that was taken five years ago. The three Berrys were standing in the middle of Times Square. Rachel had naively handed her new digital camera off to a random passerby while asking them if they would '_be so kind as to take a picture of me and my dads?_'

Marcus had marveled then at the girl's innocence - her blind faith and her absolute trust in a stranger not to run off with the expensive, tiny piece of equipment, easily becoming lost in the crowd.

The man she had handed the camera to smiled brightly and nodded his assent. '_Sure, little girl. Go stand by your dads, now._' Marcus had proceeded to wrap his arm tightly, lovingly around Brendon's shoulders. Brendon had smiled at him, kissed his cheek, and turned to face the camera. Rachel had squeezed in between her fathers; one of her small arms had wrapped around Marcus's leg. She squealed - high-pitched and bright - while jumping up and down. Brendon's hand had reached down and rested gently on her shoulder, causing her to still.

The camera flashed.

Marcus felt silly for having been nervous at all as the man gave the camera back to a tiny Rachel and said, '_Now, be sure to keep that picture forever. It's a good 'un!' _Rachel had smiled brightly and exclaimed, '_Thank you so much!'_ before literally reaching up and giving the man a tight hug around his neck.

A moment in time, frozen forever. A brief glimpse into the happiness of the moment - Rachel and Brendon smiling brilliantly at the camera, Marcus smiling sweetly while looking down at his perfect daughter.

His daughter - obviously not by blood, but by heart and soul and spirit and simply the deep emotional connection that only a _parent _can have with their _child_. Brendon, while possessing the apparent blood relationship with Rachel, never held that over Marcus's head - it wasn't necessary. It would be almost comical now - sixteen years into their daughter's life - to consider her as anything other than _theirs_.

And yet...

And yet here stood Jesse St. James – who had, with just a few simple words, potentially crushed the familial unit into shards of nothingness. What if, after tonight, they couldn't simply be Rachel and Brendon and Marcus, The Berrys? What if, after tonight, Shelby managed to force her way into his daughter's life - force herself into the role of 'Mother' that she had legally given up all those years ago? Could his daughter - his pregnant and emotional and yet _incredibly _brave and strong-willed daughter - handle the implications of another parental figure in her life? And at this point, Shelby wouldn't just be 'another' parental figure; she would be the mother Rachel never had, she would be the only adult woman with whom Rachel could discuss all things... _Womanly_.

Would Marcus be obsolete? Would Brendon?

However illegally it had been done, the fact remained - Rachel's birth mother had just entered into her life. And thus, she had entered completely again into all of the Berrys' lives.

Marcus turned around, unwillingly tearing his gaze from the framed picture on the mantle. He saw Rachel as she took a hesitant step towards Jesse whereas, before, her steps had been retreating.

"M-my mother?"

Jesse nodded and briefly glanced towards Marcus's towering form before answering, "Yes."

Quinn also stepped forward, placing her body directly between Rachel and Jesse. "Listen, I'm not entirely sure who you think you are, coming into this house like you own the place and dropping this kind of news on Rachel. Whether or not you're the father of her baby, I'd like to know what the hell you're thinking. Because, like Rachel said, you _know _what tomorrow is. I wish I could look past possible ulterior motives in this situation, but I just don't think I can."

Marcus saw Jesse square his shoulders and lift his head. A challenge.

"I could ask you the same question, _Quinn_." He seemed to say her name with just the slightest, almost imperceptible hint of sarcasm. "As far as I can see, this isn't your house anymore than it is mine. And what I have to say to Rachel doesn't particularly concern you. At all, really, when you think about it. This concerns me and Rachel and her fathers and, _yes_, it even concerns her mother. I don't see where you fit into that equation in the slightest."

Marcus saw Quinn's head drop, her shoulders began to droop, and her eyelids began to blink rapidly. She turned back towards the couch, back towards Brendon, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Marcus could see her face even more clearly now. Whatever little confidence they had been building back up within the girl since she had come to live with them had just been crushed.

Marcus wouldn't stand for it any longer. He was almost ashamed that things had gone on for so long already - this was _his _house, his and his husband's.

"I think," Marcus said while stepping forward purposefully, "that it's time for you to go, young man." He wrapped his arm around Quinn's shoulder, and she immediately turned her head into his chest - trying to hide the heart-breakingly vulnerable look that was etched on her face. "Quinn is right, and this house is more _her _home than yours. We don't appreciate much - if anything - of what you've had to say since you walked through the door. And the issue of Rachel's mother is something that her dad and I will talk to her about - not you. Now," he began as he gently directed Quinn to the couch next to Brendon who patted her on the knee as she took a seat. "If there's nothing else, you can be on your way."

Jesse looked appropriately quelled. He plunged his hands into his front pockets and bowed his head slightly. Turning to address both Marcus and Brendon, he quietly said, "You're right. I should be on my way. Whatever you may think, my intention was never to cause Rachel distress the night before her competition. I meant what I said - we just couldn't wait any longer."

When the word '_we_' left Jesse's lips, Brendon angrily stood to his feet at last. "I've heard enough." He took a step closer to St. James. "Out. Now." Brendon - while his frame was significantly smaller than his husband's - was quite intimidating when angry.

"Ok," Jesse murmured. He faced Rachel quickly and pulled her into a hug - whether it was against her will or not, it didn't matter; it was over almost before it had begun. As Jesse pulled away, he trailed both of his hands down Rachel's arms only to grasp onto her fingers. Rachel's eyes widened in surprise when she felt the unmistakable form of a folded note being placed into her left hand. His bright green eyes bore into Rachel's as he quietly said, "Until we meet again."

Jesse abruptly turned on his heel and proceeded to quickly make his way out of the living room. He called over his shoulder, "I'll just let myself out."

And then - as suddenly as if a tornado had swept through and ravaged their home - Jesse St. James was gone.

* * *

"Quinn," Brendon placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. She looked up into his eyes as she mentally shook herself from her thoughts. "Would you mind excusing us? I think that Marcus and I need to have a little chat with Rachel before it gets too late."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I should get ready for bed. Big uhh... Big day tomorrow and all."

As she passed Rachel on her way out of the living room, she tried to catch the brunette's eyes - she tried to hold her gaze, if only for a single second in order to make sure that Rachel was ok... That everything was going to be ok. That things weren't falling apart for the other girl. But she couldn't catch Rachel's attention at all.

And so Quinn's footsteps on the stairs were heavy and miserable as she made her way to her bedroom.

* * *

Rachel found herself squished between her dads on the couch. They both had their arms around her. The position was normally one of familiarity and comfort - it was how they had always sat together, ever since Rachel was a little girl. Her Daddy would be on her right, her Dad on her left. They would surround her with their love and support and Rachel would lean her head on one of their shoulders before eventually switching to the other...

But in this moment, it didn't feel familiar to Rachel. And it provided little to no comfort whatsoever. Instead, she felt smothered. And overwhelmed. And the entire situation felt foreign.

Jesse's note was tucked firmly in the front pocket of her jeans. She could feel one of the sharply folded corners sticking into her thigh.

"Rachel," Brendon began. "You know that we've told you about how we came to have you in our lives before." Rachel nodded dumbly. "Well, maybe it's time to tell you more about how everything came about - more than just the technicalities. Maybe we should tell you what we know about your mother." Rachel shifted a bit, and Brendon continued. "But, pumpkin, we really don't know a great deal about her personal life or anything before – or after – the pregnancy."

"I guess all we can do -" Marcus said "-is start from the beginning."

Rachel shifted slightly - just to feel the note press into her thigh again. "I think that would be best," she softly uttered.

_

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming in today. Your time is greatly appreciated. We'll be getting in touch with you as soon as my husband and I make final decisions." Brendon stood and moved around his desk to embrace the other woman's hand in his own briefly. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Holiday."_

_The young woman in front of him stood quickly while continuing to shake Brendon's hand. "Oh, it was so nice to meet you as well, Mr. Berry! I look forward to hearing from you soon."_

_As Brendon closed the door, he removed his glasses and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. __**Too young**__, he thought. _

_No sooner had he replaced his glasses on his face and begun to walk back towards the office that the doorbell rang. Curiously, he turned towards the door again. No other women had called in response to their ad in the paper, so he wasn't really expecting anyone else today._

_Regardless, he turned and made his way to his front door. He swung the door inward, ready to address the person on the other side. His breath momentarily caught in his throat._

_**This is her**__, he thought. And as the thought crossed his mind, he knew deep down to his very soul that it was true._

_"Hello," he said. "Can I help you?"_

_"Yes," she said. Her voice was confident. "My name is Shelby Corcoran, and I'm her in response to this ad I found." She held out the newspaper, but Brendon didn't need to do much more than glance down momentarily. He knew the words by heart. He had written them with Marcus just a few weeks prior._

_Fathers in the **greater Lima area** looking for a female between the ages of 20-28 who is interested in acting as a **surrogate **to help us complete our family with a beautiful child. Please contact us at **555-1432** for details. Generous **compensation **will be provided once the arrangement is finalized._

_"I see," Brendon said. "Please, come inside!" He stepped back and extended his hand in an inviting gesture. Shelby nodded kindly and walked inside. "The living room is right this way. We can sit down and chat for a bit. Would you like anything to drink?"_

_"A glass of water would actually be great, thank you."_

_"Sure thing, I'll be right back." He quickly made his way into the kitchen to prepare the drink for her._

_While he was gone, Shelby paced slowly around the wide open space of the man's living room. She perused the pictures that hung on the walls and graced the tops of a couple tables in the room. She stopped in front of one and picked it up. The man who had invited her inside was in the picture, as was a taller looking black man. They were holding each other in a loose, loving embrace. Their hands were resting on top of the surface just in front of them - two sparkling, beautiful wedding bands shone brightly._

_"So I see you've found my favorite."_

_Shelby was slightly startled and decided it was safest to gently lower the picture frame before she dropped it or something equally as mortifying. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just looking at your pictures, and that one caught my eye."_

_"No, no! Please, don't apologize. I meant it - it's my favorite. That's my husband, Marcus," Brendon said fondly, picking up the frame himself. "This was taken the week after we got back from our honeymoon. And that was," he thoughtfully placed one hand on his chin while he continued to gaze at the picture. "About two years and seven months ago." He replaced the photo on the table and smiled happily at Shelby. "We've been thinking about having a child for a long time now - really, since before we were married. We've been together for a long time now - nine years next month. I know you've read the ad and I don't necessarily have to tell you this, but... Well, we really are ready and excited for an addition to this family - an addition that, we feel, will make us complete."_

_Shelby nodded and smiled, swallowing tightly around the lump that had formed in her throat. "I understand." She had clipped the ad from the paper a few days before, and it had consumed her thoughts ever since. She saw the surrogacy as an opportunity to fulfill someone else's dreams as well as give her the financial security to pursue her own. However, in that moment, something clicked within her. The couple who she was going to help was no longer faceless - they could no longer be represented solely by the piece of paper that was resting in her front pocket, crinkling slightly as she moved about the room. They were real people, and they wanted her to help them create and nurture within herself a real-life human being. As these thoughts turned over and over in her head, she realized that she was going to have to make this as emotionless as humanly possible. She had to be detached, or else she would never survive what she was potentially agreeing to._

_"Would you like to sit down? Marcus is actually due home soon. I'm sure he would love to talk with you as well."_

_"That sounds great," Shelby said as she plastered a sweet smile on her face. "I can't wait to meet him."_

_

* * *

"So," Marcus began. "You're from Carmel?"_

_"Yes," Shelby said after swallowing another sip of her water. "I grew up there, graduated from Carmel High School." She paused briefly and allowed herself to chuckle lightly. "Actually, I was the captain of the glee club." Marcus and Brendon laughed slightly with her. "I know how silly that must sound, but I loved it more than you could possibly imagine."_

_Brendon leaned forward and patted Shelby gently on her knee. "It's not silly at all. I'm a firm believer that the arts are incredibly important. And while my husband doesn't necessarily share my fondness for musicals and Broadway shows, he has always indulged in my viewing passion." Shelby raised her eyes and firmly held Brendon's gaze before switching to Marcus and leveling him with an equally as intense stare._

_"I want to do this for you both. I want to help you have a baby." Her words were fierce with determination. While Marcus and Brendon both knew that the decision was – obviously, ultimately - their own, there was a certain finality to her tone that inspired confidence that this woman was going to follow through._

_The men's' gazes connected across the space of the room, and - after conveying their thoughts to each other with the ability they had developed over their years together - they each nodded, completely faithful that, __**together**__, they were making the right decision._

_"We'll have our lawyer draw up the papers tomorrow."_

_

* * *

They all sat down at the same side of the table, and the energy in the air was palpable. The papers had been drawn up. Shelby hadn't run scared - not that the men had expected her to, of course. Everyone was still riding on the adrenaline that could only come with the utmost confidence that what they were doing was perfect - that no other version of this scenario could possibly compare._

_"Here is the final draft of the contract," Mr. Gow - the Berrys' lawyer - said as he placed the papers in front of Shelby. "Miss Corcoran, you need only sign here-" he pointed to a spot on the first page "-and here-" he pointed to page three "-here-" page six "-and finally, here-" on page nine._

_Shelby zoned out slightly after nodding and picking up the provided pen, not listening as Marcus and Brendon began to sign their parts of the contract. She had read it all. She knew what was entailed. They had asked her, "Now Shelby... Are you sure you understand? We are providing you with compensation in the form of doctors' bills paid, maternity clothes purchased, necessary vitamins and supplements, a check for five thousand dollars at the halfway point in the pregnancy, and a final check for seven thousand dollars after the delivery. The baby will be ours, and you will not be permitted to contact her without our permission before her eighteenth birthday." _

_Shelby had simply said, "Perfect. I've always wanted to go to New York City and pursue a career on Broadway. Maybe now... Well, this will be perfect for everyone."_

_And now as she signed the papers in Mr. Gow's office, she had to tell herself over and over, __**This baby isn't going to be yours. You'll have to give it up. And that's ok. That's ok. That's ok. New York City. My dreams...**_

_**My dreams.**_

_

* * *

Shelby was young, her body was fit. She was relatively tall for a woman. She was beautiful. _

_And the fact that she had a voice like an angel did not escape the notice of Brendon and Marcus._

_Technically, the pregnancy was going smoothly, perfectly. But once the full details of Shelby's pregnancy came to light, her parents kicked her out of their house - where she had still been living since graduating high school only a few years before. She showed up on the Berrys' doorstep that night with a suitcase and a duffel bag and tears running down her face while her hand protectively clutched the swell of her stomach._

_The last few months of her pregnancy, she lived in their house. They took care of her like she was a princess. Anything she needed, anytime of the day or night. Doctors' visits. Food cravings. Shopping trips (though Marcus most certainly never flinched when it came to __**shopping**__). And finally, they were there when her water broke. And through her labor._

_They were there by her bedside when the nurse brought in their beautiful baby girl. She placed the newborn in Shelby's arms. __**Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry**__, she had reiterated over and over and over in her head. __**Keep up the emotional detachment. Or else you're going to lose it - you'll lose everything!**__ But in the end, her months of training herself for this moment meant nothing at all, and the tears fell from her eyes with conviction. _

_Marcus leaned over and lightly kissed Shelby on the forehead while simultaneously caressing the soft skin of their baby's head._

_"Would you like to know what we've decided to name her?" Brendon questioned softly, a look of sheer reverence on his face as he saw what they had all three created together. __**Magnificence**__._

_A choked sob escaped from her throat, and Shelby managed to shake her head once, twice. "No," she said. "Please don't tell me."_

_Marcus and Brendon had nodded in acquiescence. Deep down, they understood; they had always understood._

_

* * *

Her bags were packed the next day. She walked down the hall from the bedroom they had graciously made into her own. She passed the room that was to be the baby's - the room the little girl would grow up in, the room inside the house that was surely going to be full of nothing but love and acceptance and the promise that each and every day was going to be better than the last._

_The Berry men were inside the nursery - Brendon held the baby, and Marcus held Brendon._

_As quietly as she could, Shelby left. The front door shut silently behind her. She put her bags into the trunk of her car before climbing in behind the wheel. Her head fell back against the headrest. She didn't cry. She had done enough of that in her hospital bed - that night after Marcus and Brendon had left, after the baby was taken back to the nursery for a night of observations, the tears had flowed with continued vengeance. She had cried and cried and cried and allowed all of the emotion that she hadn't allowed herself to experience over the past eleven months to be released in one smooth rush. And then she had mentally disconnected herself from that chapter in her life._

_She had to._

_She drove all the way to New York City. To start a new life. And no matter how hard things got over those following months, she never did cash that second check._

* * *

Rachel's head hit the pillow with a heavy _thump_. She was exhausted - emotionally, physically... Her back was aching. Her head was pounding. She wanted so badly to just _leave_ for a while. To escape. _Like my mother did, when she ran away_, she thought with an edge of bitterness. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. She knew that there really wasn't a single thing that she could genuinely hold against Miss Corcoran. Or her fathers... No matter how badly she wanted to hate them for legally making it impossible for Shelby to contact her before Rachel turned eighteen, she could never hate them.

Rachel rolled onto her back and reached over to her dresser, grasping for something. When she found what she was looking for, she held it in front of her face. The note. She turned it over in her hand, observing every last detail of the neatly folded paper for the first time that night. She traced over the letters that were thinly written on one side.

**_For Rachel_**

_For me_, Rachel thought, as she continued to touch the feminine handwriting on the paper. _What would my dads think if they knew I had this? If they knew that she had managed to make it even further into my life than simply the words that Jesse spilled from his lips..._

Rolling back over, Rachel opened the drawer of her bedside table and gently placed the note inside.

_Another night, maybe, but not this one._

She turned off her light and, in the darkness, the pain assaulted her.

Her heart was hurting, as if it had been ripped out of her chest hours ago and her pumping adrenaline had only just now allowed the pain to register in her mind. The tears were flowing so freely that Rachel couldn't even see the shapes in her bedroom that were illuminated by the moonbeams coming in through her window - her tears were obscuring the edges of reality, and she was falling.

The faint creaking of her door should have caused Rachel to attempt to stem the flow of tears. But it didn't. Instead, she just reached one hand up and shamefully covered her eyes. No one could possibly want to see this, to see her looking like a hot mess.

"Rachel."

Rachel heard her name spoken so softly that it almost didn't register.

"Rachel."

This time, the whisper was so close that Rachel could almost feel it against the back of her neck. Quinn. It was Quinn, and Rachel should be happy - but she couldn't find it within herself to just _be happy _and so she was confused and ashamed and _disgusted _with herself all at the same time. So when she felt Quinn's light touch - her warm, comforting, _deliciously _soft touch - she pulled away.

There was a moment. A moment in time. And nothing happened. Quinn didn't make a move to leave. And Rachel didn't make a move to apologize or to return Quinn's touch or even to say '_Please don't leave me, please don't. Don't stop touching me, please. I might fall apart if you leave._'

"Good night, Rachel," Quinn said softly - and, oh God, _so _sweetly that something inside Rachel's chest might just have broken in two.

The mattress shifted and it was only a matter of seconds before Rachel was alone in her room again.

The darkness was oppressive.

It took less than five minutes for her to compose herself enough to walk across the hallway to Quinn's room. She slid under Quinn's covers. Quinn immediately turned to Rachel and began to caress her arm softly.

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered. The tears began again, immediately. "I'm so sorry. So so fucking sorry, Quinn."

"Shhh, Rach. It's ok. I promise, it's ok." She pulled the girl close to her, wrapping her arms around her and not even flinching when Rachel's hand accidentally brushed against her wrapped ribs. "You're going to be alright."

"How do you know?" Rachel sniffled.

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she said. "I just know these things." 


	26. Inevitable

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**6:00 AM**

Rachel's eyes blinked.

Once.

Twice.

She was facing Quinn's bedside table, so she slowly reached out to turn the other girl's alarm clock towards her.

_Huh, _she thought. _I guess I've trained my internal clock well._

She carefully lifted the covers and rolled out of bed. Her feet quietly hit the floor, and she turned to look at the girl she had spent the night with.

Quinn's long, blonde hair was splayed out and contrasted starkly against the black pillowcase her head was resting on. Her hand lay next to her face, wrist facing upwards. Rachel bent low over the bed, resting on her elbows, and lightly pressed her lips against Quinn's palm. The sleeping girl's fingers naturally responded, curling slightly against the soft flesh of Rachel's cheek.

Rachel pulled away, her back straightened, and she smiled brightly down at the still-sleeping figure.

Refusing to dwell - for now - on the events of the night previous, Rachel's only thought was, _My, haven't we come a long way in just a few months?_

As she left Quinn's room, she resisted the urge to skip.

**

* * *

**

6:04 AM

_Streisand's Greatest Hits _played from Rachel's iHome as she completed her morning exercise routine on her elliptical. The bright pink piece of paper with the word SECTIONALS filled her vision - this was what they had been working towards for weeks. Months, even. New Directions had overcome challenges - as a group _and _as individuals.

Bullying, slushies, football team conflict, Sue Sylvester Sabotage... Pregnancy. Abuse.

_And we're all better people for it, _Rachel thought. _We're a team - a family. And today, we are going to __**win **__Sectionals._

She began to pump her legs even more furiously, a smile once again gracing her lips.

**

* * *

**

7:33 AM

Quinn trudged down the stairs. Her feet '_tap tap_'d lightly as she descended. The smell of bacon and French toast wafted through the air and hit her nose with a wave of mouth-watering deliciousness.

"Dad, you can't make fun of me for my bacon consumption," Quinn heard Rachel chastising Brendon in the kitchen. "I have a growing _child _in my stomach, for goodness' sake!"

Quinn entered the kitchen to see a chuckling Brendon standing in front of the stove, turning over a fresh pan-full of crispy, yummy bacon. "You're right, pumpkin," he said. "I shouldn't make fun of you."

Marcus looked up and exclaimed, "Ahh! Good morning, Quinn! Come, sit down. You girls need to eat a good breakfast. It's a big day! Eggs are coming up next. How would you like yours?"

"Scrambled is fine, thank you so much." She headed towards the table and took a seat - she strategically shifted her chair as she sat down, scooting it closer to Rachel's already seated form. Purposefully catching the other girl's eyes, Quinn mouthed the question, _Are you ok?_ Rachel's lips lifted upwards in a grin - a beautiful, charming, full-blown grin that made Rachel's eyes sparkle. She nodded in response and mouthed back, _I am now._

Quinn tried to hide her blush. Unsuccessfully.

She saw Rachel's hand reach out for her own, and Quinn immediately - without hesitation or fear or a second guess or even a nervous glance in the direction of Rachel's dads - met Rachel halfway. She grasped the girl's hand in her own, laced their fingers together, and gently settled their hands on her lap while she traced the back of Rachel's hand with her free one.

Staring down at their joined hands - their contrasting skin tones and Rachel's skin that just _looked _as soft as satin - Quinn thought to herself, _**This **__is a family, Fabray. And you are one lucky bitch._

**

* * *

**

7:54 AM

Santana closed her car door behind her and began briskly walking up the sidewalk. It was wickedly cold and Santana was tired and she had a test first hour and a headache was _definitely _forming in her temples...

_An extra fifteen minutes of sleep would have been great._

But when Brittany threw the door open and greeted Santana with a warm, perfect hug and a brilliant smile and a kiss on the cheek that lingered _just _the perfect amount of time and then laced her fingers with Santana's, pulling them back out to the car while already chatting animatedly about the glee club competition later that day...

All Santana could think was, _Screw those fifteen minutes of sleep._

**

* * *

**

7:57 AM

Kurt placed a brown paper bag on his dad's desk.

"Breakfast," he said.

"No Slim Jims?" Burt questioned.

"No Dad," Kurt sighed while walking back out of the garage. "No Slim Jims."

As Kurt's perfectly groomed head disappeared around the corner, Burt called out, "Hey Kurt!"

Peeking just his head back inside, Kurt rose an eyebrow in question. "Yes, Dad?"

Burt took a bite out of the muffin he had already extracted from the confines of the brown paper bag. Swallowing, he said, "Knock 'em dead today, kiddo. I love ya."

Kurt smiled. "I love you too, Dad."

**

* * *

**

8:01 AM

Mike Chang was glad that the snow had _finally _disappeared from the sidewalks. With a beanie, gloves, a scarf, and a heavy jacket - he hoped that _maybe_ he would manage to stay warm on his way to school. He kissed his mom on the cheek and then grabbed his skateboard from its place next to the front door, waving goodbye as he headed out.

As his wheels hit pavement and he kicked off, the cold wind stung his eyes and his lungs. But it was worth it.

Three houses down, Mike saw movement. Matt was closing and locking his front door behind him and then running down his sidewalk, his own skateboard in hand. As Mike passed, Matt ran along next to him, threw his board down, and jumped on it.

They high-fived before cruising along next to each other, headed towards WMHS.

**

* * *

**

8:06 AM

Tina waited patiently in her living room, staring out the large glass window towards the street. She excitedly grabbed her backpack and (literally) skipped to her front door as she saw her ride arrive.

As she slid open the side door on the van, she greeted the driver. "Good morning, Mr. Abrams!"

"Good morning, Tina," Mr. Abrams replied.

Tina closed the door behind her and turned to her boyfriend. "Hi," she said quietly, shyly.

"Hello," Artie replied.

"Big day today, kids," Mr. Abrams said.

The whole way to school, they all talked about Sectionals - and the whole way to school, Tina and Artie's hands never parted.

**

* * *

**

8:08 AM

Puck hit the snooze button on his alarm.

For the seventh time.

**

* * *

**

8:09 AM

Mercedes' mom - whom the diva had obviously inherited her vocal abilities from - was singing backup harmony for her daughter on the way to school.

"_Tear down the mountain,  
__Yell, scream, and shout.  
__You can say what you want,  
__I'm not walkin' out.  
__Stop all the rivers,  
__Push, strike, and kill.  
__I'm not gonna leave ya,  
__There's no way I will."_

As they pulled up to school, Mercedes finished the song. She looked over at her mom while catching her breath. They pounded fists, fingers splaying out as they pulled away.

"You go get 'em, girl," Mrs. Jones said with a warm, loving glint in her eyes - so, so proud of her daughter.

It was with a light, happy heart that Mercedes exited the vehicle and headed into WMHS.

**

* * *

**

8:14 AM

Finn had missed the bus.

He missed the bus at least twice a week, but today was just... Well, _really _inconvenient.

Turning around, he started planning out his plea to his mom to get her to drive him to school this morning. '_Finn_,' he could already picture her saying with a sigh. A pause. '_Ok, come on_.'

She was the only parent he had really ever known.

But she sure was awesome.

**

* * *

**

9:31 AM

Quinn met Rachel as the diva exited her first hour classroom.

"Hi," Rachel said - a bit breathlessly.

Quinn grinned back. "Hi." She gently - yet, firmly - took Rachel's stack of books out of her arms.

"Well, you're being incredibly chivalrous, Miss Fabray. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Quinn shrugged as if she had no idea what Rachel was talking about.

"I see..." Rachel trailed off thoughtfully. "You're not going to tell me what this is about?"

Quinn just raised her eyebrows as a smile lit up her face - but she still refused to answer Rachel's queries.

"Fine. But I promise that I _will _break you eventually, Quinn."

They arrived at Rachel's next classroom and Quinn carefully returned the books to the other girl's arms. She leaned down next to Rachel's ear, the books pressed lightly against each girl's chest. "As long as you plan on keeping that promise, Miss Berry."

Quinn pulled back from Rachel and took a few steps before winking salaciously and turning around, headed off to her own classroom.

Rachel cursed her traitorous heart - which, she was sure, was beating so loudly that everyone in the hallway would _surely_ know what was going on in her head and her chest and her stomach...

Quinn Fabray was hot. And Rachel was _certain _that horrendously blatant flirting had just taken place.

And she was very, very pleased.

* * *

**10:26 AM**

Quinn was - again - leaning against the wall outside of Rachel's classroom when the bell rang to head to third hour.

_She must be a power walker, _Rachel mused.

No words were spoken as Quinn - again - took Rachel's books and they headed off in the direction of Rachel's next classroom.

But something was different now. Rachel didn't miss the looks Quinn kept shooting her away. They were confusing Rachel. The looks were full of expectancy and just a bit of disappointment. Had Rachel missed something? Maybe she hadn't flirted back appropriately. Maybe Quinn was let down or embarrassed or -

"Are you doing anything the last week of December?" Quinn questioned - it was an unexpected inquiry, and Rachel didn't have an immediate answer.

"Uhhh -" she stammered. "I really don't think so, Quinn. Why?"

"Just check your planner for me, ok? Next hour? And let me know."

"This mysterious persona is very intriguing," Rachel mused quietly.

Quinn just chuckled in response. "Maybe you're just more easily amused than I had ever anticipated, Rach."

Rachel's lower lip stuck out in a completely fake pout. "I'm not easily amused," she said in a tiny voice.

Quinn turned towards her as they stopped a couple feet from Rachel's next classroom. "Ahh. I didn't mean it." Rachel's pout started to recede slightly. "Just... Check for me, yeah? See you, Rach."

And then Quinn was gone and Rachel was walking into her class and sitting down at her desk and wondering _what on earth _had gotten into Quinn Fabray.

And when she opened her planner to December, out fell a neatly folded note. Rachel's breath caught in her throat for a moment as her mind immediately flew to the note in her bedside table - the note she knew was from her mother, the note containing _who knows what. _

But this note was different. A neat hand had written

**OPEN ME**

on one side of the paper.

Rachel wasted no time in doing just that. Her eyes traveled quickly over the words:

_Dear Rachel,_

_Will you be my girlfriend?_

_Sincerely,_

_Quinn_

_P.S. - I didn't give you 'yes' or 'no' boxes to check because you should just text me your answer. Like, now._

Rachel pushed her hand to her lips as she attempted not to laugh out loud. Her face felt like it might break with the sheer force of her smile. She just sat at her desk - reading and re-reading the note for at least seven minutes before finally pulling out her cell phone and covertly texting Quinn underneath her desk.

**Rachel**: I think that you're the cutest thing I've ever witnessed. Where have you been all my life?

It didn't take long to receive a response.

**Quinn**: I've always been here, Rach. But that was a different version of me. I like to think this one is a bit better... Can I take that as a 'yes'?

Rachel tucked the right corner of her lower lip between her teeth before punching the buttons on her phone again.

**Rachel**: Yes, that's a 'yes.'

**Quinn: **:-)

* * *

**12:19 PM**

Eleven of the members of New Directions sat together at lunch. They were all talking at once - about their set list and their choreography and the other teams and the fact that they would have to pull this entire thing off without Mr. Schuester's guidance. In the middle of everything, Rachel and Quinn sat across from each other - shooting coy looks at each other when they thought no one was looking their way.

"So has anyone seen Puck yet today?" Artie questioned.

Several people shook their heads before Kurt looked towards the entrance to the cafeteria. "Speak of the devil," he said.

"Never fear," Puck said dramatically as he forced his way in between Santana and Brittany on the bench they were sitting on, wrapping his arms around each of their shoulders. Santana looked mildly disgusted while Brittany simply continued eating her Goldfish. "Puckasaurus is here!"

"Oh, joy," Santana muttered drily.

* * *

**2:30 PM**

The glee club met in the auditorium for a final run-through of their set.

Every note. Every step. Every dip and sway. Every wheelchair push. Every brilliant smile.

Perfection.

As the final note faded out and the group was engulfed with an incredibly satisfying silence, Rachel turned around and looked _proudly_ at her _friends_.

"We _so _have this in the bag," she said.

Everyone broke out in cheers, jumping around excitedly and hugging each other.

"Ok everyone!" Miss Pillsbury called out, clapping her hands twice. "To the bus!"


	27. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**2:46 PM**

Santana. Quinn. Mercedes. Tina. Kurt. Mike. Matt. Rachel. Puck. Brittany. Finn.

They all line up in the windows - staring out at Mr. Schuester and Miss Pillsbury - as Artie's wheelchair rises into the handi-capable bus.

"So, the competition starts at four," Mr. Schuester says solemnly to Miss Pillsbury.

"Right." Miss Pillsbury's tone is sure and matter-of-fact.

"I'll have my cell phone on." He's obviously nervous. _Dammit! I should never have slept on that mattress_, he thinks self-deprecatingly.

"I know, you already told me. Three times. And you wrote it down." She doesn't want to get annoyed. She _really_ doesn't want to get annoyed. _I'm an educator - the same as him! I think I can handle taking care of these kids for one afternoon._

Jacob Ben Israel runs up proclaiming, "Reporting for duty, Mr. Schuester!"

"Great. The publicity will be just what glee club needs," Mr. Schue says. Jacob volunteered his services the previous afternoon, proclaiming that he would '_go with New Directions to Sectionals and cover the event_.' Apparently Jacob's blog receives more hits than the school's newspaper sells copies - so Mr. Schue had agreed.

Turning back to Miss Pillsbury, Mr. Schue says, "I can't thank you enough, Emma."

Ducking her head slightly, she says "Ok" quietly before she runs to get on the bus.

Mr. Schuester turns and closes the wheelchair entrance door, hits the side of the bus twice, and walks away. He doesn't watch as the bus containing _his kids_ rolls out of the parking lot.

**

* * *

**

2:49 PM

"Why are you sitting next to me, Jacob?" Rachel questions roughly, not at all pleased with the situation. _The situation_, she thinks bitterly to herself, _that I wouldn't have to be in at all if Quinn and I both weren't so worried about what people would think of our most recent relationship development._ And, sure enough, Quinn was sitting three rows in front of Rachel - she was in a seat by herself with Brittany and Santana in the seat across the aisle from her. They were already talking about who-knows-what - or rather, Brittany was talking while Santana and Quinn listened. _What were we thinking? _Rachel wonders to herself.

"Well," Jacob said, unsuccessfully attempting to put his arm around her. "I never did get a proper peek at your over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. I was thinking, you know, on the way back from the competition... It'll be dark on the bus. Probably pretty chilly. We could help... _Keep each other_ _warm_." His tone was suggestive and disgusting and Rachel was _appalled _that she even had to deal with this right now.

She needed a knight in shining armor. And she needed one _fast_.

**

* * *

**

2:51 PM

"- and then the duck _quacked_. Like, it literally _quacked_ and started waddling after Santana. She got so freaked out! She ran away screaming like a little girl! And I was just like, _rolling_ on the ground because I was laughing so hard - just watching this tiny _duck_ chasing Santana around the park." Brittany finished the story, dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable laughter and leaning heavily against Santana. "It was totally awesome..."

Santana looked dismayed that Brittany lacked the decency to keep such an embarrassing moment of her private life _private_. Quinn just smirked at her best friend because - no matter how frustrated Santana was - she would always be there for Brittany, even if it was so the blonde could lean against her shoulder laughing her ass off and crying with mirth at her expense.

Suddenly, Brittany's laughter stopped, and she turned to look over her shoulder. "Wow," she said. "Rachel looks _super_ uncomfortable. Kind of like San and I when Mr. Schue sings rap songs and break dances."

Quinn and Santana's heads immediately snapped - comically so - back towards where Jew-Fro and Rachel were sitting.

"You're right, Brit," Santana said. "_Super _uncomfortable." Santana turned to look at Quinn - Quinn, who was literally _seething_ at this point.

Brittany had noticed Quinn's posture as well. "Q, if this were a cartoon, I'm _pretty sure_ steam would be like, coming out of your ears by now."

Quinn grudgingly pulled her line of sight away from Rachel and Jacob before looking at her two best friends in the world.

"Q," Santana said. "Please tell me that you're not just going to sit here like a _fool_ and let him do what he's doing."

"Of course not," Quinn huffed indignantly. Her HBIC facade began to fall in place as she stood abruptly, straightened out her Cheerio uniform, and purposefully strode the three seats back to where Jew-Fro was _yet again_ attempting to wrap his arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"It doesn't look like she wants you to touch her, Israel," Quinn said, hands firmly on her hips. _Please don't let the bus hit any bumps, _she thought. _It would __**so**__ not be cool if I fell right now._

"I think that's up to Rachel to decide, don't you, Quinn?" Jacob replied with a sneer and the narrowing of his beady little eyes.

The look Rachel gave Quinn in that moment - the look that said _please, __**please**__ don't make me stay with him, please take me away... please be my knight in shining armor_ - was all that Quinn needed.

"She's already made up her mind," Quinn said, extending her hand for Rachel to take.

Everything was going smoothly - Rachel smiled brilliantly and reached out to take Quinn's hand, Quinn was holding Rachel steady as she climbed out into the aisle, and Jacob's face was turning from smug to mutinous - when Jacob made the single biggest mistake of his high school career thus far.

As Rachel was crossing over him on her way to the safety that would come when she reached Quinn's side, Jacob _grabbed her ass_. Like, literally gripped a butt cheek in each of his hands. And _squeezed._

"Oh my God!" Rachel shrieked, completely disgusted and caught off guard.

Unable to maintain her footing, she fell forward into Quinn's chest. Quinn - having witnessed Jacob's every move (read: mistake) carefully caught Rachel as she semi-fell into her, placed Rachel into the nearby arms of Tina (who had stood up when the commotion started), turned back to Jacob, and promptly punched him squarely in the nose.

_Hard._

His glasses broke in half. And he started crying as a trickle of blood made its way out of his nose.

Turning back to Tina and Rachel, Quinn took the pregnant girl's hand (after smiling briefly at Tina in thanks), and then led Rachel back to Quinn's previous seat.

Puck stood up from the back of the bus (just a few rows behind the now-immobile form of Jew-Fro) and shouted, "Fabray! That was badass! It's nice to see that Santana and I have been rubbing off on you!" He let out a cheer and high-fived Mike who was sitting across from him.

"He's right, you know," Santana said. "That was fairly badass."

"And hot," Brittany added, smiling happily at Quinn and Rachel who were sitting _really_ close together.

"My knight in shining armor," Rachel whispered sweetly into Quinn's ear. Quinn just ducked her head down to her chest and began to blush a deep shade of pink.

"They make a cute couple," Brittany said as she and Santana settled back down in their seat.

"A couple?" Santana questioned, raising her eyebrow slightly.

"Yeah. A couple. Kind of like you and me. If sex was dating."

Santana mentally sighed. Brittany didn't need to say a lot in order to inspire quite a bit of thought sometimes. This was one of those times.

Turning her head slightly to the side, Santana eyed the two girls sitting across the aisle stealthily. She smirked and thought, _If they're not holding hands under that blanket, I'll eat my shorts._

And when Brittany reached under the seat and pulled out her own blanket, Santana didn't object to laying it across their lap and holding both of Brittany's hands in her own.

**

* * *

**

**3:46 PM**

_Buckeye Civic Auditorium_

_Western Ohio High School Show Choir Sectionals_

_Jane Addams Reform School_

_Haverbrook School for the Deaf_

_McKinley Senior High  
New Directions_

"Ok," Miss Pillsbury began, only _slightly_ nervously. "Smooth sailing so far! We're all signed in and umm... According to the program, you have drawn performance lot number three."

"We're going last?" Tina exclaimed. "Isn't that... _bad_?"

No one really had an answer for her. Everyone was still and silent and contemplating the question of whether or not it _was_ bad for them to be going last.

Rachel, however, had an answer - as she had for almost _all_ situations in life.

"Hardly," she said while standing up and taking a place in front of her fellow glee club members. "This is good news. My extensive auditioning for community theatre has taught me that we either want to go first or last. If we go first, then everyone has to measure up to us; and if we're last, then we're freshest in the judges' minds."

"And did you ever get _any _of those parts?" Kurt questioned with an air of arrogance.

Quinn was not pleased. "And did you ever stop to think that she's trying to make _you_ and everyone else here feel just a little bit better about our situation?" Quinn snapped at Kurt. "Shut up and let her talk."

Rachel smiled bashfully at Quinn - a look that pretty much everyone from WMHS saw and made note of.

"Thank you, Quinn," she said quietly before turning back to New Directions. "We know our songs. We know our steps. We know our _hearts_." She paused for a second. "We've worked so hard to get this far. Don't you remember what it was like in the beginning? Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, and I were struggling to perform even the simplest choreography - and we were alone. Then Finn came along -" she smiled brightly at him "- and our football and Cheerios' friends soon joined us as well. And then, before I think we even realized what had happened... We shifted from a nameless band of misfits to an actual show choir. _We are New Directions_. And we're going to _win_ Sectionals."

The lobby of the auditorium was crowded - it was full of a lot of people from all over Western Ohio - but that didn't stop New Directions' members from surging forward and embracing their captain in a group hug.

Miss Pillsbury, standing slightly off to the side, caught a single tear on the tip of her finger as it escaped.

**

* * *

**

3:59 PM

Rachel stood at the end of the row that all of the glee club kids were sitting in. She quietly addressed the team. "Ok, everyone. It's _always_ beneficial to know your competition. This will be fun!" She sat down in her seat - next to Quinn - and looked forward expectantly.

Quinn leaned over and whispered in Rachel's ear, "You're a great leader, you know."

Rachel grinned and blushed slightly. "Coming from the captain of the best cheerleading squad in the nation, I will take that as a _serious_ compliment."

**

* * *

**

4:01 PM

Thirteen jaws were practically coming unhinged. Sure, _And I Am Telling You_ was a popular song. But of all the show choirs in all of Ohio? This just wasn't fair.

Rachel leaned forward and caught Mercedes' eye. She reached across the two bodies in between them and grasped the black girl's hand. "At least we won't be ruining the song with pointless hairography. You'll still kill it, Mercedes."

But the dejected look on the other girl's face spoke volumes.

Rachel was worried.

**

* * *

**

4:07 PM

Panic began to set in.

Rachel looked like she was ready to jump on stage and _roll_ some Jane Addams' girls straight off of it.

"A wheelchair number?" Quinn hissed out between clenched teeth. "_Really?_"

Mercedes looked _livid._

Artie looked hurt - the wheelchair song was supposed to be in honor of _him_. The girls onstage had clearly been tipped off and, instead, were using it to make New Directions look foolish.

Finn patted Artie lightly on the shoulder.

Brittany looked incredibly confused.

Jacob Ben Israel was getting into the song and dancing in his seat.

Mike and Matt - sitting on either side of Jacob - punched him in the shoulders.

Santana looked down into her lap guiltily. _This __**has**__ to lead back to Coach_, she thought.

Puck looked as if he was contemplating sneaking down to the closest gas station and looking pathetic enough to score some beer for the entire club.

Kurt simply rubbed his temples as he found himself completely unable to look away.

**

* * *

**

4:32 PM

The kids were back in the lobby.

Artie kept running his wheelchair into the wall over and over again.

Rachel was standing in a corner, leaning her head against the wall and _thinking_ so hard that her head might just explode.

Everyone else was sitting around, attempting to comfort each other while Miss Pillsbury called Mr. Schuester in an attempt to gain some semblance of _leadership_ in their little, dysfunctional mess. _Maybe I'm not cut out for this_, she thought.

**

* * *

**

4:34 PM

Mr. Schuester confronts Sue Sylvester in the hallway, blaming her for their leaked set list and her attempted destruction of the glee club.

He accomplished nothing.

**

* * *

**

4:39 PM

Miss Pillsbury confronts the directors of Jane Addams' and Haverbrook respectively.

With her wide-eyed, pity-inducing stare and her well-worded, stinging accusations...

Well, she accomplishes more than Mr. Schue.

**

* * *

**

4:44 PM

The kids take their seats again in the auditorium, waiting to hear the Haverbrook kids sing.

Rachel doesn't give a pep talk this time.

**

* * *

**

4:46 PM

Brittany smiles brilliantly and waves at her friend - Thomas - who was performing _Don't Stop Believing _on stage.

Artie childishly hits her arm for waving to their former competition - their present _enemies_.

Rachel's mind has been racing a mile a minute since the first notes of _Proud Mary_ assailed her ears. As soon as she saw the _fool_ in front of her literally _wiping the tears from his eyes_, she rolled her eyes dramatically and made up her mind.

Decisively, she stood and said loudly to her team, "Meeting in the green room in _five minutes_."

She then strode quickly up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

Quinn looked down the row of students and, realizing that no one else was going to follow Rachel on her storm-out, hurriedly got up and ran out after the irate diva.

**

* * *

**

4:48 PM

Quinn burst out of the auditorium, the sounds of the first chorus of _Don't Stop Believing_ ringing in her ears. "Rachel," she hissed out, trying to find the other girl. She turned her head frantically from side to side and managed to catch a glimpse of Rachel's skirt disappearing around the corner to her left.

She took off in a run after her. She rounded the corner and almost crashed into the other girl, barely managing to careen to a halt in time.

"Rachel!" she proclaimed. "What are you doing?"

Rachel was standing in front of a door next to which a plaque reading OFFICE OF MR. EDWARD THOMAS, MANAGER hung on the wall. She had already removed a hairpin from her head and was jiggling it around in the locked door handle.

"I'm saving New Directions, Quinn." She paused momentarily, as if she had just realized that Quinn was standing next to her. "Hi," she said a bit breathlessly, a smile finally gracing her lips. "I'm glad to see that you've come to help."

Quinn laughed disbelievingly. "It looks like it's a good thing I'm here. I'll keep you from getting arrested so that we can actually _perform_."

Rachel nodded once, and her serious mask fell back into place.

"I didn't know you could pick locks, Rach."

"Well," Rachel said. "I actually can't. I'm going out on a limb here -"

And then the lock clicked open, Rachel turned the handle, and she pushed the door open.

Turning to smirk at Quinn, Rachel said, "I rescind my previous statement."

The girls hurried inside and closed the door behind them. Quinn locked the door while Rachel shook the mouse on the computer, bringing the pc out of its sleep state. She quickly opened up the browser.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Quinn asked.

The smirk on Rachel's face told Quinn all she needed to know.

As twelve copies of Rachel's new song selection rolled off the printer, she turned happily to Quinn.

Quinn took both of Rachel's hands in her own and pulled her forward. Their bodies pressed flush against each other. Quinn leaned down slightly, almost bringing her lips into contact with the diva's.

Rachel thought back to that first time they had kissed - when Quinn had been in the hospital after her car accident - and she immediately said, "You can kiss me," mimicking Quinn's statement from that day.

"I think I will," Quinn mumbled against the other girl's lips. She leaned down just the slightest bit more. Their bodies melded together, becoming one. Their lips touched.

Quinn would've been perfectly happy with staying locked in this embrace until the end of time - let alone until the show choir competition was over - but that was not meant to be.

When the last page was making its way out of the printer, Rachel broke away from Quinn with a final peck to her lips - almost as if she _really did_ have a sixth sense.

Quinn pouted, but Rachel was already busy straightening the papers and heading out the door.

"At least tell me what song you picked?" Quinn questioned.

"Let's just say, it's a big one of _these_ to the rest of the competition," Rachel said while flipping her middle finger up and over her shoulder in Quinn's direction as she made her way out of the office.

Quinn just stood there with a mild look of disbelief on her face.

Rachel peeked her head back into the office and stared at her girlfriend. "Well, what are you waiting for, Quinn? We have a music program to save!"


	28. Don't Rain On My Parade

_A/N: I haven't had a disclaimer in quite a long time. And this chapter would be a good one for it, I guess - because I use more than a little dialogue directly from the show. So, no - I don't own Glee, the characters, the songs, or the dialogue. And since I'm writing an author's note at all, I'd like to say - __**thank you**__. Thanks for all the support you guys give me - whether it's through reviews or just the silent fact that you're out there reading at all. You're pretty awesome._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**4:49 PM**

Rachel and Quinn burst into the green room - the _empty _green room.

Literally stomping her foot once, Rachel snapped, "Where is everyone?"

"They just haven't made it here yet," Quinn tried to placate the other girl. "You move fast, Rach. Maybe you just don't realize..."

Rachel turned slowly in place to look at her girlfriend. "And you enjoy it, don't you, Fabray?"

"Now, Rachel," Quinn said cautiously, clearly noting the glint in her eyes. "People could burst through that door at any second."

"I know!" Rachel giggled as she continued stepping forward - until Quinn's back was pressed firmly against the closest wall. "It's thrilling, isn't it?"

**

* * *

**

4:51 PM

The door to the green room banged open - courtesy of Santana - and a myriad of angry voices spilled into the space.

Quinn and Rachel hastily stepped apart from each other, each girls' fingertips lightly touching their respective lips.

"_Oh my God_," Santana sighed exasperatedly as she quickly moved forward and grasped onto Quinn's arm, dragging the Cheerios' captain all the way across the room and strategically placing an entire couch between the two hands-y teenagers. "You're lucky Brittany and I walked in first, Q. Like, _seriously_."

"Oh please," Quinn was quick to retort. "How many times have I - _luckily_ - been the first Cheerio into the locker rooms only to find you and B in _much_ more compromising positions? Huh?" And then the mental image seemed to sink into Quinn's mind and a look of slight nausea crossed over her face. "Well, _not_ so luckily, I guess..."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Santana mumbled as the rest of New Directions finished filing into the room - taking seats wherever they were available. Brittany came to stand next to Santana in the back corner. They linked their pinkies together.

It was immediately apparent that everyone was depressed. And, what other range of emotions would they be capable of feeling right now? They were sad and angry and they all felt _used_ and violated. This, the entire situation, was so intrinsically _wrong_.

It was bound to happen sooner or later, but Kurt threw the first stone.

"You leaked the setlist." He paused, staring directly at the three Cheerios in the back of the room. "You don't wanna be here. You're just Sue Sylvester's little moles."

Quinn, standing slightly behind Santana and Brittany, hesitated momentarily. What she was about to say could possibly cause severe damage to her relationship with Rachel. But this was a moment of crisis - Emergency 911 - and no punches could be held. Case in point: Jacob Ben Israel.

"I know for a fact that's true," she said, making up her mind and stepping forward. She kept her eyes locked with Rachel's, trying to convey through her words how sorry she was that she had kept this fact from her. "Sue asked us to spy for her." Rachel never looked away. Quinn took this as a good sign.

Santana gasped, outraged that it was _that_ easy for Quinn to out them as spies in front of everyone - in front of everyone who currently looked willing to dismember and disembowel as needed.

"Look," Santana said. "We may still be Cheerios, but neither of us ever gave Sue the setlist," she motioned between herself and Brittany.

Brittany turned her head slightly, nervously glancing at Santana. "Well... I-I did. But I didn't know what she was gonna do with it."

More gasps and sighs of frustration passed around the room. Santana could understand their irritation - hell, she was BFF w/ Benefits with Brittany, and even _she_ was a little miffed. But at the end of the day, BFFwB trumps Traitorous Setlist Leaker. Every time. She had to diffuse the situation. And fast.

She grabbed Brittany's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the group. "Ok, look... Believe what you want. But no one's forcing us to be here. And if you ever tell anyone this, I'll deny it... But I like being in glee club. It's the best part of my day, ok? I wasn't gonna go and mess it up. And you _all_ know that Brittany would never willing hurt _anything_ - so you also know that she wouldn't have wanted to mess glee club up either."

Santana planted herself in a chair - an ugly lamp the only thing separating her from their fearless leader, Berry, who was currently looking at Santana with an appraising stare.

A moment passed. "I believe you," Rachel said quietly. "I believe all three of you."

Santana didn't mean to smile in response, she really didn't - it just... It slipped out.

* * *

**4:53 PM**

And now it was Rachel's moment. It was her chance to step up and take control, to diffuse the situation and set New Directions back in the _right_ direction.

"Ok look, guys, there's no point in us arguing anymore. We have to go on in thirty-seven minutes and -"

"And we have _no _songs," Tina said dejectedly.

"Perhaps I could improvise some of my def poetry jams," Artie said matter-of-factly. He was met with a chorus of 'no's.

"No, look. We're gonna do this the right way," Rachel said. "Let's start with the ballad." Turning to her fellow diva, she asked, "Mercedes, do you have anything else in your repertoire?"

Mercedes shook her head while saying, "Yeah but... It's not as good as anything you're gonna sing."

"No," Rachel quickly interrupted her. _I'm trying to be a team player here, dammit!_ Rachel mentally cursed, upset that Mercedes was so willing to give up and let those Jane Addams hoochie-ho's steal her spotlight. "We agreed."

"We agreed that I would sing _And I'm Telling You_, and that ain't happenin'." Mercedes paused. What she was about to say was going to be painful - _oh so painful _- to admit out loud _and_ directly to Rachel's face. "Look Rachel, the truth is, you're the best singer that we've got."

Kurt chose this moment as the best opportunity to slip in a back-handed compliment. "As much as it hurts me to admit it - and it does - she's right. Rachel's our star. If anyone's going to belt it on the fly, it should be her." He looked up at Rachel then with the slightest hint of respect in his eyes - but only the slightest.

And even that tiny little bit of respect - that sense that her team _needed_ her to save the day, to take a ballad from her vast repertoire and make everything better... Well, you didn't have to ask Rachel Berry twice.

"Well, I do have something that I've been working on since I was four," she says. Mercedes just laughs a bit, slightly relieved that the pressure of having to learn an entire new ballad in just thirty-seven - no, _thirty-six_ minutes - was now removed from her shoulders.

"Then I guess we have our ballad," Quinn said softly. Rachel looked over Mercedes' shoulder, directly into Quinn's eyes - and she couldn't help but smile and blush deeply at the reassuring look of confidence and pride that Quinn was giving her. "And we can close with _Somebody to Love_, it's a real crowd-pleaser."

"Yeah, that and a can of _soup_ will guarantee us third place. We still need another song we can all sing together." Puck's words caused most people in the room to look down at their hands nervously and think, _Well, he's right. We're out of time. There's nothing else to be done. This is the end._

But then Rachel - their unanimously elected captain, their tireless leader, their peppy, pregnant commander - stepped forward and held up her neatly organized stack of stapled papers. "Assuming that this selection is pleasing to the group, I may just have the perfect song for us to sing."

Everyone excitedly stood up and gathered around Rachel while she handed them their respective parts.

"How did you get this music, Rachel?" Matt asked as he handed a set of papers over to Artie.

"Please don't tell us you 'just happened to have it' tucked away for such an occasion as this," Santana said haughtily - even though she still had a smile on her face as she read over the music.

Quinn answered for Rachel. "She actually broke into the auditorium manager's office and did some supremely sneaky googling and printing."

Looks of awe crossed everyone's faces then, and several people moved forward to give the girl high-fives. Tina embraced her in a tight hug.

"I think that this song in particular will effectively show the directors of our respective show choir competitors that they may have tried - and they _did _try _oh so hard_ - but you _cannot_ bring this team down; not as long as we stick together, and not as long as we have each others' backs."

Everyone was high-fiving and sharing hugs all around by now. As things settled down, people started to read over the lyrics, memorize their parts, and figure out harmonies.

"We'll need some basic choreography," Finn said.

"You're right, Finn." Rachel put her hand on her chin in a contemplative gesture. "Brittany? Santana, Mike, Matt? Would you all be able to pull something together for us?"

"It's gonna be choppy," Mike said.

"We're best when we're choppy," Brittany spoke up.

"Preach," Artie said, one hand in the air.

"We'll all follow your lead," Rachel said. "I'm sure that whatever you can get ready for us, it'll be great."

They broke up into groups then, dancers and singers and Rachel flitting around like a bee to her various flowers - correcting them, helping them memorize and hear the proper harmonies. Things felt like they were coming together, but only time would tell - and concerning time... There wasn't much of it left.

Jacob was busy scribbling away in a corner. _I hate to admit this,_ he thought, _but if they win? This is going to be one hell of a story!_

**

* * *

**

5:28 PM

All of the spectators were yet again seated in the auditorium. Rachel nervously stood staring at the red curtain in front of her. It was almost show time. She took a deep breath and grasped the curtain in both of her hands.

_Breathe_, she thought. _Just breathe._

She closed her eyes momentarily and was shocked when someone came running up to her.

"Rachel," Quinn gasped out breathlessly.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed in a whisper that she tried to hold back as much as possible. "What are you doing? You guys are supposed to be around the corner -"

"I know," Quinn interrupted. "I know, Rach. But I just had to tell you -"

"It couldn't have waited?"

"Not at all," Quinn giggled. "Rachel, I love you." Rachel gasped. "And you're going to be amazing." Quinn leaned forward, placing her hands on each side of Rachel's face and giving her a show-stoppingly fabulous kiss before pulling back, smiling brightly, and running back around the corner.

_Well, _Rachel thought. _This is going to be cake._

**

* * *

**

5:30 PM

Shelby's hands were sitting in her lap, unmoving. Nervous fidgeting was a habit that she had rid herself of long ago. The lights had flashed just a couple minutes before. The show should be starting soon. She looked down at her program.

_4:00 PM - Jane Addams_

_4:45 PM - Haverbrook_

_5:30 - McKinley_

_Anytime now_, she thought. _At any moment, I will be seeing my daughter. The girl that I gave up sixteen years ago. My daughter..._

An Asian man wearing a suit walked out onto the stage with a microphone in his hand.

"And now, our final team. McKinley High's... _New Directions_!"

Shelby almost lost her resolve. _Maybe I can still leave. It's not too late to get away. With the bright spotlight, she'll never even know that she's missed me. Maybe she didn't even read the note..._

But then, the first notes of the song began playing. And Shelby knew she couldn't leave. She knew that her daughter would be singing this song - without a doubt in her mind.

And then there she was.

"_Don't tell me not to live,  
Just sit and putter.  
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter,  
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!"_

And then Shelby realized a mistake she had made. She was sitting in the back - she didn't think there would ever be the possibility that Rachel would see her all the way back here.

What a gross miscalculation.

In the split second before Rachel said, "_Don't tell me not to fly_," her eyes locked with Shelby's.

_She knows_, Shelby thought. _She has to know. Oh my God, if I ruin this day for her, if I ruin it... She'll never forgive me. __**I'll **__never forgive me!_

And then Rachel moved on - she moved down the aisle and she continued singing as if nothing had happened at all. Shelby's breath stilled in her throat. Her hand covered her lips. _She's a real professional_.

Closer to the stage - while Rachel was working the audience to her greatest ability - Shelby saw her sit in someone's lap. She recognized the back of that slightly balding head - it was one of Rachel's fathers, Brendon.

As Rachel mounted the stage, rose her arms into the air, and beckoned in her fellow glee club members... The crowd went wild.

_A __**great**__ song choice, baby, _Shelby thought. _Yep. They're going to be big time competition at Regionals._

When her daughter received a standing ovation, it was Shelby's proudest moment thus far in her life.

**

* * *

**

5:35 PM

Rachel knew what she had seen.

_Who_ she had seen.

But there was no time for that.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said breathlessly - for she had just exerted a great deal of energy, she had put her heart and her soul and all of her body into _Don't Rain on My Parade_. "New Directions!" she exclaimed - more proud than she had ever been before in her life to introduce her _team_.

As she took her place in their formation, she held Quinn's gaze a little longer than necessary.

"_You can't always get what you want,  
But if you try sometimes,  
__You'll find...  
You get what you need!"_

**

* * *

**

5:40 PM

Quinn was right.

_Somebody to Love _was a real crowd-pleaser. They received their third consecutive standing ovation as they all held hands and ran off the stage together, laughing and cheering and hugging each other. A few tears might've been shed along the way.

_We were so totally badass_, Puck thought. He jumped into the air and fist-pumped, last off the stage.

**

* * *

**

6:29 PM

The judges had deliberated. The Jane Addams' director had lamely tried to apologize and confess to the judges - unsuccessfully (when she had turned back to the New Directions kids and sadly shrugged her shoulders, Santana had exclaimed, "No way, bitch! You can try harder than that!" before Matt and Brittany had forcefully subdued her; "Don't worry," Tina had said quietly, "We won this thing.") Mr. Schuester had called Miss Pillsbury at least two dozen times in the past twenty minutes asking for results.

And now it was time.

**

* * *

**

6:30 PM

They may have been overly confident, but hearing "NEW DIRECTIONS!" called out as the winners of Western Ohio's Show Choir Sectionals was still _super_ exciting.

They jumped, they screamed, they cried, they laughed - all in one big ball of messy happiness.

And as the craziness started to settle down - as Finn and Puck ran over to pick up their trophy - Quinn turned to Rachel amidst all of the pandemonium.

"You told me once that there was this memory you had, this discernable moment in time when you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you liked girls. And I never did get the chance to ask you about it," Quinn said quietly, practically whispering the words directly into Rachel's ear.

"Are you asking me to tell you about it right now?" Rachel asked.

Quinn nodded, her bottom lip tucked gently between her teeth.

"Have you ever seen _10 Things I Hate About You_?"

Quinn giggled and nodded again.

"Don't laugh!" Rachel exclaimed. She sighed and looked up into Quinn's eyes with a mischievous glint. "Well," she said. "It's not every day that you find a girl who'll punch someone in the face to get you out of an awkward situation..."

And instead of telling Quinn, she showed her. Rachel reached out gently with her right hand and tucked several strands of hair behind Quinn's left ear. Then she leaned forward and engulfed Quinn's lips with her own, holding Quinn's face securely in line with hers as they shared a kiss fueled with the passion of their victory and their love for each other.

As they pulled away, Rachel quietly murmured, "I mean, Heath knew that the moment was so brilliant, he did it two times - _in a row_. It was genius." She was blushing.

Quinn was breathing heavily, her senses slightly overwhelmed by what she had just experienced.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "Genius." And then they started kissing again.

All of the glee kids were shouting and cheering them on - too excited to even care about gossiping.

But one set of eyes in the audience was seething. His blood was boiling. His fists were tightly clenched around the ends of his armrests. _I will __**not**__ be made a fool by that little whore_, he thought. _No mother of __**my**__ child will partake in such behavior - it will make me look like a complete idiot if the rest of Vocal Adrenaline finds out!_ Jesse angrily stood, storming out of the auditorium - not even stopping as Miss Corcoran uselessly tried to reach out her hand and halt his movements. But he was already gone.

And he was already scheming. But he wasn't alone.

_Well,_ Jacob thought. _They may have won, but this is even better..._

**

* * *

**

6:45 PM

Every McKinley High glee club member chose not to ride home with their parents - instead, they all boarded the handi-capable bus, still cheering each other on and celebrating.

Not even the small mob of people outside who claimed to be members of the "Lima Show Choir Conversion Group" - with their picket signs and their depressing attitudes - could dampen their spirits.

"MY NAME IS BRENDA CASTLE," one woman shouted through a megaphone. "AND SHOW CHOIR CAUSED ME TO START _HUFFING GLUE_."

She handed the megaphone off to another man who shared his equally-as-horrifying story. One man broke away from the show choir conversion group and caught Miss Pillsbury's hand before she got on the bus. She quickly pulled it out of his grasp.

"Excuse me," she said as she pulled a disinfectant wipe out of her purse. "Can I help you?" She was already vigorously wiping down her hands.

"Yes." He stuck his chest out and lifted his chin into the air. "You can tell Will Schuester that his glee club is _going down_."

Miss Pillsbury just tilted her head slightly to the side and allowed the slightest trace of a smirk to grace her lips. "And who shall I tell him is asking me to deliver this message?"

The smirk that he donned didn't just turn up the corner of his lip - it covered his entire face. "The name's Bryan," he said arrogantly. "Bryan Ryan."


	29. In A Sentimental Mood

_A/N: I found myself having a very hard time making it from Point A to Point B. I hope you enjoy the final product regardless._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

The first time Quinn Fabray wrote out the words, "_I think I'm in love with you_," she had received a beating from her father subsequently followed by a major car accident, another beating, and removal from her parents' custody and their lives in general.

Despite the disastrous turn of events in Quinn's life leading up to New Directions' performance at Sectionals, saying the words, "_I love you_," to Rachel Berry hadn't been quite the conflict of will Quinn had suspected it would be.

It was easy.

It was natural.

And over the following several weeks, it became a common place occurrence.

**

* * *

The Night After Sectionals**

Rachel's dads kissed both girls on their foreheads.

"Goodnight, girls. It's been a big day for you both, you need your rest," Marcus said, clasping his husband's hand firmly in his.

Brendon nodded. "Yes, goodnight, ladies. We were so proud of both of you tonight."

Rachel giggled and proceeded to tightly hug both of her dads at once before skipping off into her bathroom to prepare for bed.

"Goodnight, Mr. and Mr. Berry," Quinn said bashfully.

"Now Quinn," Marcus began. "You know we told you to call us Marcus and Brendon." He winked at her. She blushed and nodded before quietly muttering another 'goodnight' and heading into the bathroom behind Rachel.

They brushed their teeth in companionable silence. Rachel finished first and began washing her face. As she finished, Quinn replaced her at the sink.

Once they were both fresh and delicious and ready for bed, they headed – hand in hand – to Rachel's bedroom, completely foregoing whatever semblance of modesty or discretion they had attempted to hold in place up until that point. Rachel's dads had seen their heated kiss – most show choir enthusiasts of Western Ohio had seen their kiss, come to think of it – and they hadn't imposed any stringent open-door policy or comparable measure.

The girls were grateful. And completely prepared to take advantage of the circumstance.

Quinn gently climbed into Rachel's bed, careful of her still-sore ribs. Rachel – less gracefully – _fell_ into bed with a content sigh, one hand clutching lightly to her stomach.

"You won it for us today," Quinn said quietly, reaching out her hand for Rachel's and tilting her head slightly towards Rachel's side of the bed.

Rachel immediately rolled onto her side, collecting Quinn's hand in both of her own and rubbing soothing circles on the girl's palm. "I legitimately don't see how that's possible," she said. "By all accounts, _you_ won the competition for us today, sweetie."

Now it was Quinn's turn to be skeptical. "Really, Rach? How are you going to back that claim up? I literally just swayed in the back. I'm part of the chorus line."

"You're more than just backup. And you do more than just _sway_," Rachel said indignantly.

"And you did more than _just_ sing _Don't Rain on My Parade_, Rachel – you completely _moved_ the audience. The rest of the glee club didn't even have to sing a word. We just walked down the aisles. And you had the crowd on their feet. You prepared the audience to hear us – and not just to hear us, but to _listen_. You did that, Rach. Just you."

"Not just me," Rachel said, leaning forward to press her lips tenderly against Quinn's. "As an aspiring young ingénue, I've often searched for sources of inspiration. A muse, if you will. And I have to tell you, Quinn, when you told me that you loved me? Moments before the biggest performance of my young life thus far?" She paused briefly and pressed her forehead against Quinn's, staring directly into the other girl's eyes, refusing to look away for even a moment. "_You_ are my muse, my inspiration – the reason that I performed with more passion and fervor than ever before in my life. If we won today because of _me_? Then we won today because of _you._"

"I meant it," Quinn said quietly. If Rachel hadn't been directly in front of her lips, the words may have gotten lost somewhere between them. But they weren't lost.

"I know," Rachel said. "I love you, too, Quinn Fabray."

"And I love you, Rachel Berry."

**

* * *

First Evening of Hanukkah**

After the four members of the Berry Household exchanged gifts, Brendon and Marcus excused themselves to the kitchen where they began making hot chocolate.

Rachel was eagerly thumbing through her gift from her dads – _The Essential Barbra Streisand_ collection of sheet music. Two hundred and fifty pages of nothing but _Barbra_. She was giddy.

Quinn scooted over closer to Rachel, leaning back against the couch and resting her hand on the diva's leg. "I'm glad there a couple generation gaps between us and Barbra," she joked. "Otherwise, I would be jealous of this infatuation you seem to have with her."

Rachel didn't scoff or attempt to argue with Quinn at all. Instead, she simply replied, "Generation gap or no, Barbra is fair game if I ever meet her in real life."

Quinn's jaw dropped – but just slightly. _Really, _she thought to herself. _Is it __**that**__ surprising?_

Rachel turned her head slightly and saw the expression on Quinn's face. She placed the book on the floor and turned her body so that she was directly facing Quinn with her knees tucked up under her chin. "But you're my number one choice," she mockingly said, a grin twitching at the corners of her lips. "Just so you know."

Quinn's shocked look slowly disappeared, only to be replaced with a full-fledged smile – a smile that lit up her face and brightened her eyes, a smile that spoke volumes into the now still air. "I am so in love with you," Quinn said, promptly allowing the oncoming blush to color her cheeks. But she didn't look away from the girl sitting in front of her. She couldn't. And she wouldn't even if she could.

Rachel smirked and leaned forward slightly, allowing her lips to come in contact with Quinn's. "And I love you," she whispered into the sweet space of Quinn's mouth, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

**

* * *

Last Morning of Hanukkah**

Quinn was freaking out. "Santana!" she practically yelled into her phone. "What am I supposed to do? I _know_ that Rachel and Brittany went to the mall last weekend. And I'm one hundred percent certain that she got me something."

She heard Santana sigh over the phone. "And?" the Latina questioned.

Quinn bit her lip nervously. This was a sensitive subject. She hadn't been living outside of her parents' house and surveillance for very long – but it had been long enough to realize that they had cancelled her credit card and emptied both her checking and savings accounts. For all intents and purposes, Quinn Fabray was completely broke. "It just sucks, S. I don't know what to get her and –" she sighed and slumped forward, placing her head in her hands. "- I couldn't even get her what I wanted to get her if I actually _knew_ what I wanted to get her!"

"Whoa," Santana said. "Settle down, Blondie. Is this a gift-choosing issue? Or a money issue?"

"Both," Quinn said dishearteningly.

"OK well, I can cover the money issue. And Brittany can cover the actual choosing of a gift. Or assisting you, whatever."

"Santana, no, I can't let you do that –"

"Quinn," Santana interrupted. "You know what my allowance is, you've known since we were little kids. And what I don't spend, I put in my savings. My savings is _ridiculous_, girlfriend. And I haven't even spent all of my allowance for December alone. So don't even start with me. I'm at Brittany's right now. I'll give her my check card, and you can meet her at the mall in –" she paused to check her watch "– approximately forty-five minutes. Cool?"

Quinn laughed and let the sound of her slight smile resound in her voice. "You're a good friend, S."

Santana huffed on the other line. "Pfft. I'm a _great_ friend, Fabray."

**

* * *

Last Afternoon of Hanukkah**

Brittany squealed and pulled Quinn into the first jewelry store they came to. She quickly began to move from display to display, as if she was looking for something in particular. Quinn followed a short distance behind.

"Aha!" Brittany exclaimed.

Quinn looked up, one eyebrow arched. "Find something good, B?"

"This is the one," Brittany replied. "This is _perfect_."

Quinn looked at Brittany's choice and smiled widely before giving Brittany a one-armed hug. It _was_ perfect.

**

* * *

Last Evening of Hanukkah**

They had finished celebrating with Rachel's dads and made their way upstairs. Earlier in the day, they had made the decision to exchange their gifts to each other in the privacy of Rachel's bedroom. And now, here they were – sitting cross-legged in front of each other on the brunette's bed, eagerly anticipating the exchange.

"Ready?" Rachel asked.

"Ready," Quinn replied.

They each tore off the wrapping paper on their respective gifts – their, oddly enough, similarly-shaped gifts.

In unison, they opened their jewelry boxes. Two soft '_click_'s filled the air and two gasps followed.

They each freed their gifts from the confines of the cases and lifted them into the air. There, dangling in between the two girls, were two _identical_ necklaces.

"Brittany?" Quinn questioned.

Rachel nodded. "Brittany."

They burst out into a fit of giggles, falling against each other when it became hard to breathe.

"Oh my God," Quinn said. "I love you."

Rachel just kissed her. Hard.

**

* * *

Christmas Morning**

Quinn awoke before Rachel. She quietly scooted out of 'their' bed and headed towards the bathroom, closing the door as silently as she could manage behind her. She used the bathroom and brushed her teeth before splashing a bit of water on her face.

After this simple action, Quinn looked up into the mirror. She caught her own stare. She blinked a few times.

This was her first Christmas without her family. Without her older sister. Without her mom. Without her dad… _And it's all my fault_, she thought. _My family has been torn apart_. Her sister refused to even accept her phone calls anymore. Her parents hadn't been seen in weeks. _Because of who I love_.

Even looking herself in the face, she couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the tears started to fall. But fall they did. And her shoulders shook. And her ribs hurt from the effort of containing her sobs.

And when the bathroom door creaked slowly open and Rachel peaked inside, her face coming into Quinn's view in the mirror, Quinn stopped trying to play the subdued role. She let it all out, and Rachel caught her as she slid slowly to the bathroom floor.

"I love you," she mumbled into Rachel's chest as the smaller girl cradled her in her arms. "No matter what he thinks."

**

* * *

New Year's Eve**

The twelve glee club kids found themselves at Mercedes' for that years' New Year's Eve party.

Normally, the 'unpopular' kids would be at home celebrating with their families or close, equally as unpopular friends.

Normally, the 'popular' kids would be at some other popular kid's house – normally Puck's – getting drunk and playing cheesy games in order to make-out with each other before midnight.

But this year, the popular and the unpopular came together for a party that was something of a 'hybrid,' a high school anomaly, a socially unbalanced scene… Though decidedly strange, it was unequivocally _gleeful_.

Five minutes till midnight, Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand in hers and stood up to make an announcement. "Excuse me!" she proclaimed. It only took about half a minute for everyone to finally shut up. "I'd just like to let you all know – so that when midnight comes around, no one is shocked – that Quinn and I are a couple."

"Like we didn't already know," Mercedes said loudly, laughing and returning to her previously interrupted conversation with Kurt.

"That's hot," Puck said.

Finn punched Puck lightly in the shoulder. "Hey," he said. "That's my ex-girlfriend you're talking about."

Mike and Matt exchanged devious smirks and high-fived. _Lesbians __**are**__ hot_.

Santana rolled her eyes before sitting down on the nearest couch, pulling Brittany snugly onto her lap.

"You know it's pretty hot, San," Brittany whispered into the other girl's ear.

Santana kissed Brittany lightly on the lips and said, "_You're_ hot, Brit. That's all I know."

Tina just smiled brightly at Rachel and Quinn in turn, squeezing Rachel's shoulder and saying, "I'm really happy for you guys," before sitting down on Artie's lap – he then wheeled them over to an unoccupied side of the room in preparation for the ball-drop.

Both of Rachel's eyebrows were arched dangerously high when she turned back to Quinn. "Huh," she huffed. "That went… Well?"

Quinn giggled and patted the empty space next to her on the loveseat. Rachel delicately sat down next to her girlfriend and laced their fingers together.

As the countdown started on the television, the glee kids began to countdown together.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

'_HAPPY NEW YEAR!'_ they all exclaimed.

Quinn leaned forward, her eyes intently attached to Rachel's succulent lips. When they met, her tongue lightly probed forward, asking – no, _begging_ – for entrance. Which was readily allowed.

It was well into the next year before they came up for air.

"You're a great kisser, Quinn."

"You too, baby girl. I love you."

**

* * *

Present Day**

_Yeah_, Quinn thought as she snuggled down to watch some random musical with Rachel in their bed. _It's pretty easy to tell this girl how madly in love with her I am_.

* * *

_A/N: Christmas Morning was **my** favorite. I'm a sucker for angst. What was **your** favorite?_


	30. Leave Out All The Rest

_A/N: Trust me, I realize that this is almost unforgivably short. Just forgive me anyway._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

When it came time for the spring semester to begin, Rachel and Quinn decided that it would be beneficial to keep their relationship private for the time being. So it was with many a secret glance and subtle grace of skin against skin when passing in the hallway that the girls found themselves able to make it through the first day.

When glee club practice came around - and thus the comfort of friends who knew their secret and a closed door - the girls gratefully fell into each others' arms.

"I missed you today," Rachel murmured against the collar of Quinn's Cheerio uniform.

"I know," Quinn said. "But it won't be like this forever." She happily closed her eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of Rachel's hair.

"No," a clear voice called from the now-open door of the choir room - a voice that all the glee club members knew and feared. "It definitely won't be like this for long."

"C-Coach Sylvester," Quinn exclaimed, subconsciously taking a step away from her girlfriend and towards her coach. "What are you doing here?"

Snapping her fingers, Coach Sylvester silenced her head Cheerio. "I don't have time for your water works, Q. So just listen to what I have to say, and I'll be on my way back to my office to finely polish my chosen routine that will clench me a 6th consecutive National Title." She stepped through the door that she had, just moments ago, swung open with impressive force. "I'll cut to the chase," she said, as if they had expected anything less. "Jacob Ben Israel approached me this afternoon with a breaking story. A story that, apparently, revolves around my head Cheerio's desire to forniforcate with another female student. And not _just_ a female student - a trifling fact that I could easily overlook - but the one female student who stands in _my_ way of a complete budget; the one student who constantly, _tirelessly _propels this wretched excuse for a club forward into success. You had to pick _her, _Q? _Really_? I have to tell you, I find it very hard to believe. And because I find it so hard to believe, I decided to come here. I'd like to hear it straight from you, Q. My _trusted _captain."

Quinn's mouth opened. And then it closed. She turned her head slightly, catching Rachel's figure in the corner of her eye. She refused to turn fully away from the Coach though - exposing her jugular at such close range was just _asking _for a lethal attack.

There was a brief moment where Quinn had no idea what to do. It was as if her brain had lost the ability to function.

But it was followed by a stunning moment of clarity.

Turning to the Coach, Quinn lifted her chin - ever so slightly because, seriously, she was messing with a dangerous woman here, and any greater sign of defiance would surely be dealt with swiftly. "It's true," she said clearly, her voice was strong. "And by pursuing a relationship with Rachel, I never meant you any disrespect or difficulties, Coach Sylvester."

Sue's lips formed a tight line. The corner of her left eye twitched. It was almost imperceptible. "Well, Q," she began. A pause. "The heart wants what the heart wants." Another pause. "Right?"

Quinn felt an overwhelming wave of shock - _is Sue being __**sentimental**__? Don't let your guard down yet, Fabray. This doesn't feel right..._ Instead of verbally replying, she simply nodded her head once.

The Coach cleared her throat once before turning - sharply - on her heel and walking to the door. However, there, she stopped. Turning slowly back to the glee club at large, she suddenly let loose a piercing whistle from between her lips. As if on cue, Jacob Ben Israel stepped around the corner.

"Did you get that, JewFro?"

For just a moment, Jacob had the decency to wipe the smirk off of his face. He nodded. "Yes, Coach Sylvester. I got it all."

"Good," Sue said, turning back towards the choir room door. "Run the story." The words were practically hissed from between her teeth.

* * *

Behind her, the glee club was frozen in a state of shock.

Quinn hadn't moved. But suddenly, her knees seemed to almost buckle from underneath her. She stuck her hand out, clutching tightly at the piano bench. Leaning forward, she sat down on it - she moved slowly and deliberately, delicately placing her elbows on her knees and resting her face on the hot palms of her hands. She released a shaky breath.

Meanwhile, Puck and Finn stepped menacingly towards Jacob who was - for some reason - still standing just inside the choir room door.

"Get out of here, _punk_, before your face meets my fists," Puck growled.

"Yeah," Finn agreed - rather lamely. Jacob made a hasty retreat.

Hesitantly, Rachel stepped towards Quinn. She reached out and placed her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "Quinn?" she questioned softly. Rachel understood, she really did. She had never known what it was like to be popular - but Quinn had been bred and groomed to ooze popularity and poise. Her entire high school career - hell, her entire _school _career - she had been popular. The guys had looked at her, and they had wanted her. The girls had looked at her, and they had wanted to _be_ her (well, in Rachel's case, she just _wanted her_). And Rachel fully understood that what Jacob was about to send out on his blog - that Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader, most popular girl in the school was _dating_ the pregnant, unpopular _glee_ nerd - had all of the potential necessary to crush the girl.

So she tried getting Quinn's attention again. Gently.

"Quinn? I-I know this is a really awful situation." She paused. "I'm here for you, Quinn. _We _-" she gestured to the rest of the glee club "- are here for you, sweetheart. You don't have to go through this alone."

Quinn blinked a few times, forcing the tears that had formed in her eyes to fall into her lap. She raised her head and looked around the room. She was met with fierce nods of agreement - looks of strength and pride and _familial support_. They weren't going to turn their backs on her. And she wouldn't turn their backs on them. Her eyes shifted towards Rachel. _I won't abandon her_, she thought. _No matter what the rest of the kids try and do to me, to us. She's worth it all and more._

Quinn stood up and pulled her girlfriend into a tight hug. "I love you, Rach. Nothing Jacob has to say can change that. I'm yours, ok?"

Rachel sniffled intermittently between her giggles. "And I am yours, baby."

Tina "_Ahhh_"d from across the room. Rachel turned and stuck her tongue out at her.

There was an overwhelming feeling of positivity - that everything was going to be ok. The glee club was still ecstatic from their Sectionals win. Rachel and Quinn would actually be able to be out and proud in front of _all_ of their peers and not just within the confines of the choir room. And they were all happy and healthy.

What could possibly happen - what ungodly event could potentially occur - that would lead to the decimation of the positive attitude and content, almost _joyful_, energy surrounding the members of New Directions?

And then Mr. Schuester walked through the door with a smug-looking Jesse St. James following closely in his footsteps.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schuester proudly clapped his hands together once, a bright smile on his face. "Please welcome our newest member of New Directions, Jesse St. James!"

Twelve jaws dropped opened stupidly. And no one was particularly welcoming.

_

* * *

_

A/N: I'll be out of town for a few days. Fair warning.


	31. Somewhere Out There

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Rachel's day had started off well. In fact, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to claim that her day (and, in fact, the past _several _days) had been going _phenomenally _well.

She had spent the entire winter break in the loving embrace of her girlfriend – who's emotional and physical wounds were healing more and more every single day.

She and Quinn had disclosed their relationship to the glee club – and everyone had taken it exceptionally well.

Her latest doctor's appointment had been uneventful – i.e., the baby was healthy and therefore Rachel was happy.

She had already spent several hours researching potential numbers for Regionals, trying to find the perfect fit for New Directions and all of the individual voices and talents in their group – and she had made good progress, still pumped from their win at Sectionals.

Quinn had sat down with her one night, and they had read the note from Shelby together. Rachel had cried – but mainly because the older woman's handwriting was remarkably similar to her own. The note had proclaimed promises to reconnect, to forge a _real_ mother-daughter relationship, to catch up on the sixteen years of missed opportunities. And at the end of the note, a phone number. Rachel hadn't called it, but she hadn't thrown the note out either. Shelby had the inexplicable need to contact Rachel after sixteen years (one day or _five thousand_ days, the bottom line was that Shelby had breached the contract with Rachel's fathers, _period_), so Rachel had decided – with Quinn's support – that her birth mother could wait until Rachel was ready… On _Rachel's_ terms.

So overall, really, things had been great.

And shouldn't that have been her first warning sign? Shouldn't the unimpeded string of happy and good and productive experiences have yielded some kind of warning, some kind of indication that _something_ was going to go wrong?

Sue Sylvester, Rachel could handle. In fact, when Sue had seemed (almost) _intimidated_ by the fact that her Head Cheerio was dating the girl who _tirelessly propels this wretched excuse for a club forward into success_… Well, Rachel had found it necessary to suppress her grin. She didn't want to appear _too_ cocky, after all.

But then there was Jacob. Jacob, that filthy excuse for a fellow member of the Jewish community… Jacob, the one student at McKinley High who now possessed the ability to threaten Quinn and Rachel's reputations with the push of a single button on a computer… Jacob was not the kind of threat that Rachel was entirely confident she _could_ dealwith.

But then Quinn had risen to the occasion – bravely reassuring _Rachel_ when it was _Rachel_ in the first place who firmly believed that _Quinn _would be in need of reassurance. And Rachel had thought, _Huh, maybe I __**can**__ deal with this as well…_

And then, Mr. Schuester – in his bubble of delusion – had walked through the door with Jesse treading just on his heels, announcing that the young man was actually going to be a part of New Directions... And Rachel immediately realized that, _no_, it wasn't that she couldn't _deal with things_… It was just that – in situations such as this – Rachel felt as if she was on a horrible television sitcom or made-for-tv movie entitled _Let's See Who Can Screw Rachel Berry Over More!_ and that there was an entire team of writers (or simply one incredibly twisted writer) attempting to pull her strings and push her buttons until she broke.

Yes, that had to be it.

At least no one had been blatantly pleased to see Jesse. Well, Brittany had attempted to start clapping. But Santana had immediately clasped the blonde's hands in her own, only shaking her head once to dissuade Brittany from continuing further.

Rachel had sharply turned away from Jesse's gaze, opting instead to proceed to the risers and attempt to sit down before she simply _gave up_ and fell to the floor in a tired, overly emotional _heap_.

Quinn hadn't followed, but she had placed herself directly between Rachel and Jesse – hands on her hips, chin in the air, and sneer firmly written across her features.

For a moment, Jesse's eyes flitted from one New Directions member to the next before he pompously said, "I thought you all would take this news a little better. I'm a star. You can learn from me."

"First of all," Kurt began. "Your _'star quality' _doesn't impress me – it just means that I'm going to have to fight even harder for a solo."

"And secondly," Mercedes continued for Kurt. "Rachel doesn't look overly happy to see you. Which means that we – as her teammates and her support – aren't going to be happy to see you either." At this statement, Kurt nodded and the rest of the glee club followed suit.

"He's a spy, Mr. Schue," Santana said with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. "I would know." Again, the entire glee club nodded in agreement.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Mr. Schuester attempted to calm the group down. "I've seen his paperwork. It's all legitimate. Jesse goes to this school now."

"But this isn't fair –" Artie started, only to be interrupted by Mr. Schue.

"Guys! Anyone who has _ever_ auditioned for this group has gotten in. That's how we do things here. And to suddenly change things now? _That_ would be unfair."

Rachel's eyebrow lowered as she contemplated Mr. Schuester's words. _Just another obstacle_, she thought morosely, placing her chin in her hand and leaning forward slightly in her chair.

Brittany had patiently been holding her hand in the air. "Brittany?" Mr. Schuester questioned.

"Mr. Schue, is he your son?" she asked, mimicking Santana's crossed arms with her own, a confused look etched on her face.

Mr. Schue responded by proceeding to look even _more _confused than the blonde cheerleader and glancing at Jesse, attempting to see if there really was a resemblance. Jesse just raised an eyebrow in the director's direction, a smile crossing his lips.

Rachel finally decided to speak. But when the words left her mouth, they were soft and meek and full of trepidation. Her tone caused Quinn to turn partially in order to see her face. "I don't understand why you're doing this." The pregnant girl looked tired. Both of her hands were resting protectively over her stomach.

"Because when you love something, you've gotta go for it," Jesse said. "You would never be with me completely if I were on the opposing team. And I care about you more than winning another National title. So I left Vocal Adrenaline. For you."

All Rachel could do was sit there in a slight stupor, completely incapable of speech at this point (in itself, a rare occasion).

Fortunately for Rachel, Quinn had maintained the ability to speak. And she exercised that ability immediately.

"Excuse me?" she questioned, her HBIC façade immediately coming into play – years of practice and honing of this skill allowed her to bypass the awkwardness of any situation and fill her role spectacularly. Her neck bobbed slightly to the side as she took a step closer to St. James. "When you _love something_? Because you _care_ about her? Please… If you _cared_ about her, you would've made an effort to be a part of her life _months_ ago – Hell, you would've tried when you first realized that she was _pregnant_! But what did you do? Nothing. You didn't even show your face until you had the ulterior motives of, one – being coerced by her _mother_ to slip her a secret note and, two – to potentially distract her enough the night before Sectionals that she wouldn't be on top of her game, thus eliminating New Directions as competition altogether."

He started to open his mouth to protest. "Don't even pretend like you hadn't thought about it," Quinn hissed out, raising a finger to point directly between his eyes. He snapped his jaw shut. Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Rachel is with _me_, so I do not want to hear a single word coming out of your mouth about her '_being with you_' again because it will make me _sick_… And it's also completely unrealistic. Got it?"

Jesse didn't agree or disagree – really, he didn't acknowledge much of Quinn's speech at all. He did, however, attempt to grin cockily as she finished, lightly shrugging his shoulders in response.

Which pissed Quinn off beyond belief. As she moved to lunge towards the smug bastard's face, Puck and Finn were already there to grab one of her arms each to hold her back. But her teeth were bared and she had made a strong impression – and Jesse had flinched just the _tiniest_ bit. So when Quinn had calmed down enough for the boys to let her go, it was with a _smug_ smile on her face that she sat down in the chair next to Rachel – placing her arm around the girl's shoulders and kissing her lightly on the temple.

"Alright guys," Mr. Schuester clapped his hands together, blatantly ignoring the unresolved tension in the room. "We have got a lot of work to do. Jesse," he said, sticking his hand out to the young man. "Great to have you here. Welcome aboard." Jesse shook his hand and smiled out at the twelve (mostly) confused faces of New Directions with a tight-lipped smile on his face.

"Well," Santana said, pursing her lips. "We're just one big, happy family, aren't we?"

* * *

When Jacob's blog aired that night, Quinn had to simply shut off her cell phone. She couldn't stand to hear the text message tone as yet _another_ faceless WMHS student questioned her about the blog and its validity. She had briefly made the mistake of navigating to Facebook at one point – she had slammed Rachel's laptop shut within seconds. Even Rachel had been surprised when her MySpace profile had received more than its usual three to five hits (she had proclaimed, "Well, at this _something_ positive has come out of all of this nonsense!").

Quinn had been scared about her reputation, yes. No matter how much she had _changed_ over the past few months, the fact remained that Quinn Fabray had been popular for most of her young adult life. The looming threat of a fall from grace was not comforting in the slightest – in fact, it was quite terrifying.

But when, the next day – between second and third period – Quinn had seen David Karofsky menacingly loom up over her girlfriend (who had immediately begun to cower against the nearest set of lockers, a slightly panicked look on her face), something inside of Quinn had snapped into place.

Damn her fears and forget her worries – she had a girlfriend with an unborn child to protect.

She had immediately thrown her shoulders back, slightly lowered her chin, and surged forward. She had to fight not to full-on burst out with a smile when the students (who had been whispering behind her back all morning long) parted like the Red Sea in front of her.

_Yeah_, she thought. _You're Quinn Fabray. You __**own**__ this school._

"- And don't think that any of us are going to stand around and just watch you _throw_ yourself all over her. It's _disgusting_, and none of us want to see you acting like a complete _dyke_ around here –"

Karofsky's speech was cut off when Quinn reached him, abruptly spinning him around by the shoulders and forcing him to come face-to-face with her.

"_Excuse me?_" Quinn questioned him – every ounce of venom that she could muster lacing each syllable. Karofsky just shook his head twice, his lips tightly sealed. "_What_ did you just call my girlfriend?"

A collective gasp was heard echoing down the halls as the gathered masses heard the rumors confirmed, straight from a primary source. "Yeah, that's right," Quinn said, turning to address every group of students congregated in the immediate vicinity. "Rachel is my _girlfriend_, and you will _all_ respect that. I am the Captain of the Cheerios – and _none_ of you should doubt for a _single second_ the fact that I can make your life an absolute Living Hell."

She turned back to Karofsky, looking him up and down with a disgusted sneer on her face before finally connecting her eyes with his. "Is that understood?"

Instead of replying – and making his own life easier – Karofsky scoffed and shook his head once.

And that was all the time it took for a red and white blur to come out of nowhere, slamming into Karofsky and forcing him up against the lockers, a few feet away from Rachel, where he immediately began to gasp for breath, the air having been knocked harshly from his lungs.

"She asked, _is that understood?_ And you may not have answered _her_ the first time, but you _will _answer me," Santana snarled, her forearm pressed roughly into Karofsky's shoulders and across his neck. He began to nod frantically. "Good," she said, completely dropping the feisty, intimidating appearance and walking off down the hallway. As she passed Quinn, she gave the other girl a lop-sided grin.

Quinn moved forward – subconsciously aware of the still-existing crowd that had stopped in the halls, watching her every move. She approached Rachel and brushed a loose lock of hair behind the girl's ear before cupping her cheek sweetly and asking, "Are you ok?"

Rachel began to grin slightly and nodded. "I am now," she replied.

Quinn linked her pinkie with Rachel's, and they began to walk down the hall towards their next classes.

_Yeah_, Rachel thought. _Sometimes it pays to be the Head Cheerio's girlfriend_.

**

* * *

Somewhere on the outskirts of Cincinnati a few days later…**

Judy Fabray sat on the edge of the cheaply upholstered chair, sipping deeply on her glass of white wine. The wine had come from a box, and the box was sitting on the tiny table directly next to her. The heavy curtains in the tiny motel room were drawn. Night had fallen outside and the oppressive darkness caused the woman to feel as if she was being crushed from all sides.

She took another long sip of her wine, willing it to alter her senses and cloud her mind – allowing her to, maybe, fall asleep and escape what had become a real-life nightmare… Her reality.

The only light was coming from the small desk on the opposite side of the room. Russell Fabray sat, hunched over, in front of his laptop – a tall and now empty glass was perched precariously close to the edge of the desk next to his elbow. The bright glow of the screen illuminated his facial features. All Judy saw was the glow around his shoulders, permeating the darkness surrounding her husband ever so slightly.

Suddenly – with a quickness Judy hadn't realized that Russell still possessed – he had stood, grabbed the glass, and thrown it with all his might at the wall above the headboard of their bed. It had shattered into a million tiny pieces. And Judy had hardly flinched.

"_No daughter of mine!_" Russell roared with sheer fury and aggression, angrily grabbing his coat off of the back of another chair and storming towards the room's exit. He continued muttering and cursing under his breath as he slammed the door harshly on his way out.

Slowly, calmly, Judy stood and walked over to the desk. She stumbled slightly, leaning precariously far over, before placing her hand on the desk and gaining back a bit of balance. She blinked a few times, attempting to clear her vision – but she also continued to sip from her glass of wine…

Eventually, Judy Fabray was able to make out the headline that had resulted in her husband's abrupt departure. It read: **HEAD CHEERIO AND GLEE STAR, LESBIAN POWER COUPLE OF WMHS? YOU BE THE JUDGE!** And below the title, a picture that engulfed the _entire_ screen of the laptop – a picture of Judy's youngest daughter on a stage, hungrily kissing that Rachel girl.

Shakily, she lowered her glass to the desk. She passed her hand over her eyes as she took several deep breaths. Her inebriated thoughts were nothing more than a jumbled mess, but she knew – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that nothing good would come of this. She needed to find her husband before he did something that he would regret. 


	32. Karma Police

_This is what you get - when you mess with us._  
_And for a minute there, I lost myself - I lost myself._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"Not now, Rachel," Quinn said. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, ashamed at the frustration that had laced her words. She leaned her forehead against her bedroom door and took a deep breath. She reached one hand out, twisting the doorknob. Lifting her head slightly – but still not looking in the brunette's direction – she simply said, "Good night."

As Quinn disappeared into her room – the room that she had only _really_ used to house her clothing and other belongings since she spent most every night in Rachel's bed – Rachel remained frozen in the hallway. She lightly rested both of her hands on her expanded tummy; her baby had begun kicking recently but was steadfastly still in this moment.

"I know, baby girl," Rachel whispered, looking down at the material of her shirt between her fingers. "I really messed up this time…" She trailed off demurely before turning and heading into her bedroom.

**And it all started one week ago…**

* * *

Mr. Schuester held the piece of paper up in front of the glee club.

**Glist**

"Who's Hot – Who's Not!"

1) Quinn +45  
2) Santana +43  
3) Puck +38  
4) Brittany +35  
5) Jesse +29  
6) Finn +19  
7) Mike +11  
8) Matt +5  
9) Rachel -5

"Who did it?" Mr. Schue questioned. Everyone was unwaveringly silent.

Rachel was silently appalled that her score was _negative_. She crossed her arms resolutely in her seat, just as determined to find out who was behind the _awful_ list as Mr. Schuester – if only so she could figure out _why on earth _she was _last_!

"This is serious. Principal Figgins is threatening to disband the club," Mr. Schuester continued, waving the Glist in front of everyone's faces.

"What?" Finn exclaimed. "That's not fair!"

"Oh please," Santana huffed, taking a break from filing her nails. "Why are we playing this game? We all know it was _Puck_."

Puck immediately became defensive, standing up fully instead of leaning nonchalantly against the piano as he had previously been doing. "Back off," he said. "I didn't do squat."

"Then why is Quinn first on the Glist? We all know you have a huge crush on her," Tina said.

Well, apparently not _everyone_ knew this. Quinn's eyebrows rose sharply – _Sure,_ she thought. _Puck has tried to get in my pants at one point or another. But doesn't he try that with __**everyone**__? _And Rachel redirected her annoyed glare from the Glist and towards the mohawk-sporting boy instead. He shuddered slightly under the intense look the pregnant girl was giving him. He put his hands up defensively.

"No no no," he tried to defend himself. There was silence as every single set of eyes in the room was keyed to him as they all (im)patiently waited for his explanation. His eyes shifted nervously, hands still in the air, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed dejectedly.

"Ok, fine," he said. "I have a crush on Quinn." Rachel stood up angrily, hands on her hips. "But if it makes it any better, I have a crush on Rachel, too!" Now Quinn stood up angrily, placing herself next to her girlfriend with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "I mean, come on," Puck begged, indicating the other guys in the room. "You guys can't tell me that they're not _totally_ smokin' hot together. But that doesn't mean I wrote the damn Glist!"

Brittany stuck her hand in the air.

Mr. Schuester waved the Glist at the girl offhandedly, indicating that she could speak.

"Puck's right. They are totally hot together. We shouldn't gang up on Puck just because he thinks that."

Next to Brittany, Santana looked at the girl skeptically.

Puck pointed at Brittany and loudly said, "Thank you!"

"No, seriously," Brittany said. "If we blame whoever has a crush on Quinn, then you might as well blame Santana, too." Everyone's eyes shifted towards Santana now – and Rachel's angry glare shifted to one of sheer delight. "It's true…" Brittany trailed off.

Santana pushed the palms of both of her hands against her eyeballs. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening…" she muttered under her breath.

Quinn giggled behind her hand, retaking her seat in the front row and shaking her head in amusement.

"Ok guys," Mr. Schuester interrupted. "This is getting us nowhere. We _have_ to find out who wrote this Glist."

Rachel immediately turned, took a few steps forward, and then rotated on the spot so that she was facing her fellow glee club members. "I agree with Mr. Schuester. It is of the utmost importance that we find out who wrote this list – immediately!"

Mr. Schuester mimicked Puck's previous actions, proclaiming his avid "Thank you!" to Rachel. But Rachel wasn't finished.

"I see absolutely _no reason_ that a list ranking members of the glee club based on a hotness quotient of sexual promiscuity would not have allowed me to find _myself _in the number one position! If you supposedly receive a point for every single act of perpetuated depravity, whoever wrote this Glist obviously lives in a _hole_!" Rachel paused briefly in her rant before gesturing widely with her arms towards her stomach when the other glee clubbers remained silent and uncomprehending. "_Come on_," she said with frustration. "I'm _pregnant_, for crying out loud! And my score is _negative_? Whoever wrote the Glist needs to come forward – because I need to have a word with you. _Privately_."

Her tone was venomous and laced with the promise of retribution.

Needless to say, no one stepped forward.

Rachel just huffed and returned to her seat next to Quinn. The blonde attempted to calm her girlfriend by lightly rubbing her hand across her shoulder blades. Rachel turned and gave Quinn a muted smile – but a smile nonetheless.

"Ok…" Mr. Schuester trailed off with one eyebrow raised precariously high. "We're not here to accuse anyone." He paused and turned towards Puck. "Puck, seriously, did you do it?"

"I said I didn't do it!" Puck exclaimed. "I'm a delinquent, sure. I like setting stuff on fire and beating up people I don't know. I _own_ that. But I'm not a liar." His lip curled up at the end and a little bit of Santana-like attitude coated his words as he stared the rest of the glee club members head on, daring them to refute his claim.

"I hope you're all pleased with yourselves," Mr. Schue said slowly and deliberately – clearly attempting to play the Guilt Trip Card. "Stuff like this Glist and posting that video of Coach Sylvester dancing to Olivia Newton John's _Physical_ –" most people in the room began snickering behind their hands "– could cause you guys to get a pretty bad reputation."

"And that's a bad thing?" Jesse questioned with a smirk on his face.

"If people were perhaps a bit more afraid of me, I might not get my glasses flushed down the toilet every day…" Artie added, trailing off and shooting an angry look at Puck. Puck just shrugged.

"Becoming what you despise is not the answer, guys. Look – the bottom line is this: The culprit has to come forward by the end of the week. If the Glist goes up again, glee club is _done_." Mr. Schue began passing out the music to a song – a completely lame, horrifically awful song – and when he was done, he stood in front of his students. "Your assignment for the week is for all of you to find songs like _this_ and make them great again! Hopefully you can apply this lesson to your own lives. Take a song with a bad reputation and give it a good one again."

"This song should be arrested for the crime of sucking," Jesse said monotonously from the seat behind Rachel and Quinn.

Mr. Schuester accepted Jesse's challenge and began singing and awkwardly dancing.

But while her fellow New Directions members were singing and dancing, Rachel was plotting and scheming. _I can do my assignment __**and**__ climb up the Glist, all in one fell swoop…_ The wheels turned behind her eyes – but even so, she didn't miss her cue with the first "_Ice, ice, baby_" of the chorus.

* * *

As Artie was wheeling himself down the hall between classes the next morning, Rachel fell into step beside him.

"I need to enlist the services of the AV club," Rachel quickly spouted off.

"What did you have in mind?" Artie asked. He attempted to sound genuinely interested – but really, he was just trying to appease the girl. Her pregnancy hormones were bound to make her slightly insane at some point, and the speed at which she was talking now was far beyond anything Artie had heard from the girl in the past – so he was mentally bracing himself.

"My shame at appearing so low on the Glist has made me reevaluate my image at this school and beyond. I've come to realize that in today's culture of bad-boy athletes and celebrity sex-tapes, a good reputation is no reputation at all. Artie," she said, stepping in front of the boy and causing him to stop. She leaned down in order to stare directly into his eyes. "You know how our glee club assignment was to find a song with a bad reputation and rehabilitate it? Well, mine is going to afford me the _worst_ reputation in this school – if getting pregnant at sixteen didn't do, then _this_ most definitely _will_. Rachel Berry is going to get a little _down and dirty_ –"

"I'm going to stop you," Artie interjected, raising his hand up. "You had me at 'sex tape.' How can I help?" She may be clinically insane at this point, but Artie was game.

Rachel slowly straightened her back, a devious smirk on her lips. "Hold onto your hat," she said. "Because Rachel Berry is about to become… _musically promiscuous_." The last two words were conspiratorially whispered, and as Rachel determinedly set her gaze down the hallway and walked off, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Artie's stomach.

_Here's to hoping this ends well_, he thought as he resumed rolling down the hallway. _And what does 'musically promiscuous' mean, anyway? Huh…_

* * *

Jesse closed his locker with a resounding clang. And he _tried_ not to appear as startled as he was when the closing locker door revealed none other than the face of Rachel Berry. His eyes simply widened slightly, and he said, "Hello Rachel."

"Hello Jesse," Rachel replied curtly. "Would you mind walking me to class? I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure," he replied. As they began walking down the hallway, he sneakily attempted to brush his hand against Rachel's, but Rachel only responded by putting a few more inches between them, choosing not to remark on the situation.

"As you know, we have been assigned the task of rehabilitating songs that are, frankly, _awful_. I have chosen a particular song that I think deserves a second chance, but it's a _story song_, and I need a male lead." She paused briefly, allowing her words to sink in. "I was wondering if you would be interested in starring opposite of me in my video I will be making with the enlisted help of the AV club?"

Rachel stopped outside of what Jesse presumed was her next class. He stopped as well, turning to face her. "Rachel, that sounds like an absolutely _fantastic_ idea. Just let me know when and where, and I'll be there." Before she could stop him, he reached down and grabbed her hand tightly in his own; he brought her fingers to his face and lightly brushed his lips across her knuckles.

Rachel's mouth opened as if she were about to chastise Jesse for his behavior, so he quickly turned and walked away from the scene – all the while, a devious smirk covered his features.

* * *

"The fact is that glee club still isn't the powerhouse amplifier of reputations that it has the potential to be – once we win Regionals and Nationals, respectively, we may gain some of that reputation-boosting power. But, until then, there _are _ways to improve your rep. You were only third on the Glist, Puck. _Third._ Don't you realize that you could be so much higher?"

Rachel's voice was sweet – deceptively so. And Puck knew it.

"I was wondering why you invited me here," Puck said. "You totally wanna hook up –"

"As you know, I'm taken," Rachel interrupted him before he could embarrass himself any further. "But I _can_ be of some assistance in the department of raising your bad-boy image." She paused, and Puck looked at her disbelievingly. "Help me with my song for glee club."

At this, Puck rolled his eyes – he was sure that making-out was going to be part of the deal, not some _glee club_ assignment.

But when Rachel pulled out those puppy-dog eyes and that _damn_ pouty lip… Well, Puck was a goner.

* * *

"Finn!" Rachel shouted down the hallway. She would have jogged lightly to catch up to him, but that wasn't happening with the almost-third-trimester-size baby growing inside of her. Not comfortably, at least.

Finn heard Rachel calling his name, so he stopped and turned towards her. He had just left the locker room after basketball practice, so he was slightly sweaty and was still wearing his basketball shorts and practice jersey. "Hey Rachel," he said. A dopey grin was plastered on his face. "What's up?" he questioned as Rachel finally got within talking range.

Smiling brightly, Rachel began to launch into her spiel. "I'm putting together a music video of the fantastically _terrible_ 1970s top 10 hit, _Run Joey Run_ for our glee club assignment this week, and I need a male lead to star opposite of me, so I was wondering if you –"

"Rachel," Finn chuckled. Her mouth was still opened comically in a small '_oh_' shape as he lightly patted her on the shoulder. "Of course I'll help you. No big deal." Rachel beamed at him.

* * *

"Alright guys, listen up," Mr. Schuester said while clapping his hands together. Behind him, the AV club was busy setting up a screen projector. "Another week has almost passed. If another Glist goes up, you guys can kiss the glee club good-bye. And since no one was forthcoming about creating the Glist in the first place… Well, I have to say that I'm a little disappointed that the assignment wasn't able to change your opinions about bad reputations." As he finished his speech, he was met with blank stares. And crickets.

"Ok… Well, let's get to it. Rachel," Mr. Schuester directed her to the front of the classroom to introduce her video.

"I'll keep this short and simple," Rachel said. Santana scoffed. "Please enjoy… My Bad Reputation." As her introduction actually _was_ short and simple, Santana thoughtfully raised her eyebrow and considered clapping momentarily.

But then the film was rolling.

* * *

Quinn hadn't been privy to any information about Rachel's Bad Reputation Project all week long. Rachel hadn't let Quinn listen to her practicing, Rachel hadn't let Quinn watch any of the filming, and Rachel hadn't even let Quinn get a special sneak-peek viewing of the completed product. So Quinn was just as genuinely interested in what she was about to see as everyone else in the room.

The film began to roll, and Quinn grinned as Santana and Brittany filled the screen. She turned around to look at the girls and caught them high-fiving each other.

Quinn continued grinning and turned back to the film. And the grin was almost instantaneously replaced with a thoughtful frown as she realized what she was seeing – and hearing. She didn't recognize the song, but it was easy enough to figure out. And her girlfriend was onscreen acting opposite of Puck – Rachel's supposed "boyfriend" in the story.

_Huh_, Quinn thought, her mind instantly backing up to earlier in the week when Puck announced that he had a crush on Rachel (i.e., her _girlfriend_). _Interesting…_

* * *

Jesse almost – _almost_ – let himself get caught off guard again when he saw _Puckerman_ on the screen instead of his own face. _Wow,_ he thought. _I've got to hand it to this girl – she's got guts_. He had assumed that the entire music video was going to be nothing but himself and Rachel – and, yes, that would have been great for his purposes. But this? This was even better.

_Cake_, he thought with a smug, arrogant smirk on his face, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

* * *

Finn's eyebrows lowered and he tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. _Huh. I really thought I was in this…_

* * *

Quinn was pursing her lips and considering pausing the movie to ask her girlfriend what the hell was going on. But suddenly, Puck disappeared from one frame to the next – only to have been replaced by Finn. Finn, Quinn's ex-boyfriend. Finn, the boyfriend who had cheated on Quinn with her current girlfriend, Rachel.

Placing her elbow on her thigh, Quinn leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. She tilted her head slightly to look at her girlfriend – Rachel was completely caught up in the video, mouthing every word with the people onscreen, too enthralled to spare a glance in Quinn's direction.

Quinn's eyes narrowed to slits as she turned back to the screen. _Interesting, indeed…_

_

* * *

Oh,_ Finn thought. _There I am_.

A cheesy smile grew across his face as he sang along with the version of himself on the projector.

_

* * *

Better and better_, Jesse thought. And then his own face filled the screen – holding onto Rachel's faux-bloody form precisely where Finn had been holding her moments before.

_And now, the best for last…_

* * *

Quinn's jaw dropped open when she saw Jesse St. James onscreen with Rachel (i.e., _**her girlfriend!**_). She was completely mortified. Again, she looked at Rachel – and, again, the girl was too caught up in her own production to realize that Quinn was near the boiling point.

_Not interesting_, Quinn thought. _More like… Completely fucked up._

_**

* * *

One week previous, behind the football stadium at WMHS…**_

"_Psst, kid! Over here!"_

_Jesse turned to look over his shoulder, tightening his fist around his backpack strap in a defensive gesture. "Who's there?" he asked._

"_Over here," the voice whispered again._

_Fully turning to survey the area, Jesse finally caught sight of a short, lean, blonde man peeking out from underneath the stadium's bleachers. Jesse rolled his eyes dramatically before approaching._

"_Can I help you?" Jesse questioned once he got close enough. "Are you lost or something?"_

"_No," the man replied. "I'm not lost – but you __**can**__ help me." He smiled brightly – a devious glint in his eyes – and Jesse immediately felt that he had just come in contact with a kindred spirit. The man stuck his hand out. "My name is Bryan Ryan," he said. "And I'm here to __**crush and destroy**__ New Directions."_

_Jesse contemplated this for a second – but only a second – before reaching his own hand out and readily accepting Bryan's. "Nice to meet you," Jesse replied. "My name is Jesse St. James. And I believe that we can be of some assistance to each other."_

_It only took a couple of short hours over coffee to come up with the concept of a 'Glist' – a 'hotness' rating that, they were sure, would absolutely wreak havoc on the social balance within the club. Bryan Ryan wanted to tear the club apart so that the kids could no longer compete (and thus save them from a lifetime of Show Choir-Induced Failed Dreams and Aspirations), and Jesse wanted to present a situation in which Rachel would be estranged from Quinn (thus allowing Jesse to sweep in and keep the mother of his child all to himself)._

_Jesse smirked as he sipped his latte. If he could get New Directions to disband? If he could get Rachel and Quinn to break up? __**And**__, to top it all off, if he could get Rachel to transfer back to Carmel High School with him since – obviously – there would remain nothing to hold her back in Lima?_

_Well, Shelby would be ecstatic – to say the least._

* * *

"San?" Brittany questioned.

"Yeah, Brit?"

"Why does Finn look like a total idiot while he's walking down the hallway in Rachel's video?"

Santana sighed. "It's because he's so freakishly tall," Santana replied. "No one ever taught him how to walk properly."

"Oh," Brittany sighed thoughtfully. "That's super sad."

* * *

"Ok!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping up to stand in front of the projector as the video ended and the lights came back on. An incredibly excited expression was lighting up her face. "Let's take a brief moment to really _absorb_ what we've just watched."

"Wow," Puck said. "I need to learn to trust my instincts more. I had a feeling when we were shooting that that it was _not_ gonna be good." He paused and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed angrily in front of him. "And it _wasn't_."

"Ahh, come on, Puck. It wasn't that bad," Finn added.

"Well, I know that Rachel and _I_ looked good. I don't know what to say about you two," Jesse said. "I should probably be upset that I was triple-cast to play opposite the _mother of my child_, but hey – you win some, you lose some."

Quinn glared at the side of his head. If looks could kill, he would be dead. Two or three times over, probably.

"_Musical promiscuity_," Artie muttered under his breath from where he sat off to the side. "I get it now…"

"So…" Kurt drawled. "Let me get this straight." He stood and joined Rachel at the front of the stage. "The assignment was to take an _awful _song with a _terrible _reputation, which" (he paused to clap his hands in approval) "I must say, you did _perfectly_ because – let's face it – that was an _awfully terrible_ song. So… You took the assignment, and you chose **Puck**" (he gestured to Puck offhandedly) "the guy who has a crush on both you _and_ your girlfriend, **Finn**" (he gestured towards Finn who was still sitting in the back row with a goofy grin on his face) "who is your current-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, and **Jesse**" (he waved his hand in Jesse's direction) "who is the father of your unborn child… And you made them all look as if they were competing for you." Kurt paused and looked around the group of kids in front of him before his eyes landed back on Rachel. He crossed his arms and rested one of his hands lightly on his chin. "Did I miss anything?"

"Well," Rachel begins. "When you say it like that…" She trails off, looking down at her shoes. But when Quinn speaks, her eyes immediately snap to her girlfriend.

"When he says it like that?" Quinn questioned. "When he says it like what, Rachel? _Exactly how it is?_" She shook her head sadly. "How could you do this to me? I'm not sure you realize…how much it _hurts_ to see you like that with them onscreen. And it's not even Puck or Finn. It's _him_," she said, jerking her chin towards Jesse. She stood up abruptly, moving towards the exit.

Rachel stepped forward, attempting to impede Quinn's progress towards the door. "Quinn, please, I –"

"You what, Rachel? You messed up? Yes, you did. I didn't realize that your reputation was more important than your relationships." And then Quinn was gone. And Rachel was left standing alone at the front of the classroom, wondering exactly how much her reputation was really worth.

* * *

Mr. Schuester was walking out of Miss Pillsbury's office when he saw it, when everything clicked in his head.

Quinn slammed her locker shut, and Will saw that Rachel was attempting to get her attention valiantly – and she was failing extraordinarily. Will didn't like to see his students fight, and he didn't like to see their relationships crumble. But this one was doing just that – and right in front of his eyes.

And then – as Quinn stormed by him – Will saw Rachel slump sadly against the nearest set of lockers. And Will watched as Jesse St. James walked into the picture, immediately moving to comfort Rachel.

_Oh my gosh_, Will thought. _It's been right in front of my eyes all along_.

* * *

The Glist didn't go up the next day. And when glee club rolled around, Mercedes asked, "Mr. Schue, where's that Jesse kid?"

Mr. Schue turned away from the whiteboard where he had just finished writing out _MICHAEL BOLTON_ in huge letters. He sighed, recapping the marker. "Expelled," he said, turning to face the kids.

"W-what?" Rachel sputtered.

"Good riddance," Kurt said, continuing to examine his nail beds.

Quinn simply ignored the entire situation, hiding behind the book she was reading in the back corner.

"Yeah," Mr. Schue began. "He was the one who made the Glist."

Quinn lowered the book just enough so that she could see Mr. Schuester's face.

"Are you certain?" Rachel questioned.

"Yes. I took him to Figgins, and it didn't take long for him to admit it. I think he was ready to head back to Carmel High anyway. Which, I mean, is good for him – since he obviously can't come here anymore."

Rachel bit her lip harshly and looked down at her lap. If Jesse had been the creator of the Glist, what did this mean? She had acted like a fool all week because of that single piece of paper – and it was all Jesse's doing.

She turned to look at Quinn – who hastily raised the book again, hiding behind it. Rachel frowned and attempted to not let her eyes well up with tears. She was mostly unsuccessful.

_No, _she thought with a bitter tinge of sadness. _My reputation definitely wasn't worth this loneliness._

* * *

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Rachel stared ahead blankly. Her tears lightly ran down her cheeks, and her gaze shifted to her bed – the bed that she had not slept in _alone_ for weeks now.

She slid out of her clothes slowly. They created a small pile at her feet. She walked forward and stood directly in front of her mirror. Her hands lay splayed across her stomach. The tiny girl inside of her kicked once against the palm of her left hand. She began to cry harder. It just didn't _feel right_ to not have Quinn in her room with her – to have Quinn _mad at her_. And Rachel wanted to blame Jesse, she really did – but she knew it was her own fault in the end.

_And I have to deal with the consequences_, Rachel thought, the double meaning lacing her thoughts as she continued to think about her baby and the baby's father and all of the drama that filled her life to the brim. _I can deal_, she thought sadly before slipping on an extra long t-shirt and crawling into her bed.

No matter how unmoving she was throughout the night, the spot she occupied in the middle of the bed never did feel sufficiently warm.


	33. A Day Late

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Rachel was awoken by the soft grace of fingertips against the side of her face. She whined slightly, sleepily. She didn't really accomplish much by whining – she still wasn't quite willing to open her eyes; her internal clock was telling her that it was _not_ six o'clock yet. The hand stilled its movements and pulled away slightly, and she whined again – even her tired, drowsy mind (though hardly able to grasp the situation) was irrationally distraught by the loss of contact.

And then the hand was cupping her cheek instead. And Rachel was smiling and fully prepared to drift back off to sleep, more comfortable in that moment than she had been all night long.

"Rachel."

Her name was whispered gently from above her, but that was all it took – Rachel's eyes snapped open, realization dawning on her consciousness like a ton of bricks falling on top of her. Within a split-second of time, her actions from the entire week previous flashed before her eyes.

Quinn was mad at her. Quinn had every right to be mad at her.

And yet, here Quinn was – cupping her cheek gently and waking her up from one of the worst nights of sleep she had ever had the misfortune of receiving during her short life thus far.

"Quinn," she breathed out. Rachel reached up, placing her own hand on top of Quinn's. A stray tear managed to escape as Rachel blinked – still trying to wake up fully – and Quinn's thumb lightly traced it away.

"Please don't cry," Quinn said softly, her own lip beginning to quiver slightly at the sight of the girl underneath her leaking tears softly against her hand.

"Quinn," Rachel began again before clearing her throat abruptly – a slight tingle having taken up residence in the back of her throat. "I'm so, so sorry. Words cannot express –"

"Rach," Quinn interrupted. "I don't want you to be sorry." She paused briefly before continuing, having obviously planned this speech out before coming into Rachel's bedroom at the ungodly hour of – Rachel checked her iHome – **5:45 AM**. "Last night…" She sighed heavily. "Was one of the worst nights I've had in a long time. I'm so, so upset with myself for not crawling into bed with you at two in the morning or something – once I realized that I couldn't sleep." Rachel opened her mouth, fully prepared to berate her for not having done precisely that. But Quinn placed a finger soothingly on Rachel's lips, lightly tracing across them and effortlessly distracting the girl from her rant.

"But I didn't come in here last night, and I can't really change that. And I also can't change the way I acted about your _Run Joey Run_ video. I actually borrowed a copy from Artie and watched it again. I'm really, _really_ proud of you for putting that together – because, come on, we _both_ know that those boys had nothing to do with making the production _completely_ awesome." Quinn smiled down at Rachel – physically attempting to show the girl that she wasn't mad anymore, and mentally trying to calm down her racing heart at the prospect of Rachel not forgiving her for acting like a complete and total _moron_.

"Rachel, I love you. And I overreacted. Like, _a lot_. Santana texted me after I stormed out asking me what the big deal was… And I'm still not sure what the answer is, Rach. Something about seeing you up there onscreen with Jesse, it just… It bothered me to no end. _And_ the fact that you kept it a secret from me." Quinn paused again, breathing deeply. Rachel had stopped crying and was listening intently. "But I realized that none of that really mattered. And I _know_ that reputations are important – not just to you, but to _everyone_ in high school. And I guess… I just… I didn't really understand why _I_ wasn't good enough for you, for your reputation."

Rachel's lip began to quiver again, and she sniffled quietly. The pregnant girl lifted one hand up and covered her eyes.

"Rach," Quinn said nervously, trying to pry the girl's hand from her eyes. "Look at me, baby. What's wrong? I know – I know I was stupid. I'm so sorry. I was completely wrong, I realize that. I never should have made you feel bad about your video, not even for a second. Rachel," Quinn was practically begging by this point. "Please look at me. Talk to me."

Slowly, Rachel lowered her hand, only to place her index finger between her lips and lightly hold it between her teeth. At first, she wouldn't look Quinn in the eyes. So Quinn leaned down and placed soft, open-mouthed kisses from her forehead to her cheeks to her nose – everywhere. And when she finally pulled away, there were Rachel's beautiful brown eyes – staring up at her like a lost little child.

"You are more than good enough for me, Quinn. It's _me_ who isn't good enough for you." Quinn opened her mouth, but Rachel copied her movements from earlier (except Rachel placed her entire hand over Quinn's mouth instead – obviously, it was equally as effective). "For as long as I can remember, I've been at the bottom of the food chain. I don't want to make some sob story out of it – because I'm mostly over it at this point. And while I love you and I know that you love me, I guess it still shocks me a little bit. That you could _want_ – of all people – _me! _I'm nothing special, Quinn. I guess the video was just a way to make me seem… I don't know… More appealing on some level?"

Quinn didn't mean to laugh, she really didn't.

"Quinn," Rachel huffed indignantly. "Why are you laughing at me? I know it was foolish of me, but –"

Rachel's indignation was cut off by Quinn's lips pressing against hers. Quinn pulled away – painfully slowly – before saying, "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

Again, Rachel huffed.

"For you to think that you're not good enough for me… Do you really not know how _utterly _ridiculous that sounds?" Quinn's tone was disbelieving.

Again, no response from Rachel save for the (adorable) pouting of her lower lip.

"Rachel," Quinn began, valiantly trying to correctly word what it was she had to say. "For you to think that you're not good enough for me is completely ridiculous. I used to look in the mirror every morning and tell myself, '_You're Quinn Fabray, you're amazing, you're __**desireable**_' and yatta yatta. But in the back of my mind, all I felt was _small_ and insignificant and like _such_ a waste of space – because my reputation was _just _a reputation, it wasn't the feeling of belonging or loving or happiness. But then you came into my life in a higher capacity than just another person walking down the hall getting slushied – and I'm sorry that, for even a _second_, that's what you were. Because you are _so much_ more than that. Because now, when I look in the mirror, all I can think is… '_She loves me. She loves me and __**she**__ thinks I'm beautiful and perfect. So maybe that means it's true_.' That's _your_ doing, Rach. No one else's. And I'm sorry that I was mad – for even a second. Because you deserve more than that."

Rachel propelled herself forward, up off of the bed, to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck tightly. Quinn responded by wrapping her own arms around Rachel's back, squeezing as tightly as she dared with the protruding baby bump nestled snugly between them.

"I love you," Rachel said. The air escaping her lips brushed against a sensitive spot on Quinn's neck, and she shivered violently.

"God, Rachel… I love you, too. You have no idea."

And just like that, they were ok. And Rachel was pulling Quinn down to lay next to her on their bed. Which was the precise moment when Rachel became fully aware of exactly what it was that Quinn was wearing.

A Cheerios uniform.

Falling fully back onto the pillows, Rachel proceeded to smack her open palm against her forehead. "Oh my gosh, no! Quinn, I can't believe that I forgot!"

Quinn smiled sadly, propped up now by her elbow next to her girlfriend's head. She rested her free hand lightly on top of the thin material of Rachel's t-shirt, lightly stroking her baby bump while her girlfriend had a mini-hysterical breakdown next to her. "Rachel," Quinn said with authority, demanding with a single word that Rachel calm down and look at her. Needless to say, Rachel did. "It's ok. I'll be back in just a few days. It's really not going to be that bad. I have a National Championship to win, after all."

She smiled brightly at Rachel, and the brunette felt a small knot untie in her stomach – but that single knot was accompanied by many others, and they were still firmly lodged in place.

"It's not just a few days – it's an entire _week_. I know you have to go but… I just don't like it, not after what I've put you through the past couple of days." Rachel sighed and Quinn leaned down and kissed her nose. "When does the charter bus leave to take you to the airport?"

Quinn leaned backwards and looked over her shoulder at Rachel's iHome.

**5:59 AM**

"In approximately thirty-one minutes," she replied.

"Ok well, first of all, I would just like to point out the absurdity of Coach Sylvester for thinking that you Cheerios need to become '_acclimated to the area_' because, honestly? It's just Georgia – which is the same time zone as us and _everything_." Rachel inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled through her nose. "Secondly, let's go make a light breakfast, shall we?" Rachel asked, throwing her blanket off of her and rolling – yes, _rolling_ – out of bed. Quinn giggled slightly at Rachel's demeanor change from criticizing Sue to preparing for breakfast. _Adorable._

Sitting up straight with her arms wrapped around her knees, Quinn watched her girlfriend search for some shorts to wear. She grinned as she took in the view in front of her. When Rachel's alarm went off at six o'clock, Quinn reluctantly tore her gaze away from her tiny girlfriend's incredibly _long_ legs to reach over and turn it off.

Quinn stood from the bed and approached Rachel – who had pulled on a pair of shorts and was wrapping a sweater around her shoulders. Rachel turned to Quinn as the blonde came to a stop in front of her. With small smiles gracing each of their faces, they simultaneously reached out to wrap the other in a tight embrace.

"I would kiss you again," Rachel muttered against Quinn's collarbone. "But I still have morning breath."

"Morning breath or not, you're still my favorite." When Quinn pulled back, Rachel had a brilliant smile on her face. "Can we go make some bacon now?"

"Certainly," Rachel said, lacing her fingers with Quinn's own and pulling her girl towards the bedroom door. "But, seriously, as soon as I'm done with this pregnancy business, I'm going straight back to my vegan diet regimen."

Quinn smiled. Rachel made this proclamation at least twice a week. And it never did get any less cute. 


	34. One

_One love,  
One blood,  
One life._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn was sitting in the passenger seat of Rachel's car. Her back was pressed up against the door, and her legs were crossed in front of her in order to more fully face her girlfriend. They pulled into the high school parking lot – a short distance away from the Cheerios' charter bus and a devious-looking Sue Sylvester with a bullhorn and a steaming mug of some supposedly-scalding beverage.

Rachel turned (as best she could) in her own seat to face Quinn.

"It's going to be a long week," Rachel moaned, allowing her head to loll back against her headrest.

Quinn allowed a small smile to cross her lips – but just because Rachel was _so damn __**cute**_. She reached out and grasped Rachel's hand in her own. And instantly, she was alarmed.

"Rachel!" she exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat. "Are you hot? Your hand is burning up." Without hesitating, Quinn reached her other hand out and placed it against Rachel's forehead and then against her neck. The verdict was inarguable – Rachel was burning up with fever.

"What?" Rachel questioned groggily. "No, Quinn. Not at all. In fact, I'm kind of cold. Here, I'll turn on the heater."

She leaned forward to reach for the heater, and Quinn grabbed Rachel's face in both of her hands – gently squishing her cheeks in and forcing the girl to look at her. Attempting to ignore the absolutely adorable expression on Rachel's face, Quinn said, "Rachel, I think I need to call your dads. You should go to the doctor's office as soon as possible."

"What?" Rachel questioned again – but this time, an immediately obvious undertone of anger and _fear_ was lacing her voice. "So that they can _maim_ my vocal chords? No, no – absolutely not."

"Whoa," Quinn tried to placate the irate girl in front of her. "Rach, no one said anything about _maiming_ you. Ok?"

Rachel sighed, leaning heavily against Quinn's open palm. "I hate this thing," Rachel said, gesturing towards the center console that was in between the driver's and passenger's seats in her car. "It's always in my way." Quinn bit her lip and arched an eyebrow in an attempt not to giggle. "I just want to lay on you."

Quinn's heart stopped beating for a second. She was being completely overwhelmed by Rachel's innocence that she almost couldn't stand it. And she also felt guilty – because she was about to get on a bus and then a plane and she was going to be hours and hours away from Rachel… For an entire week.

In this moment, Quinn felt that she was absolutely the worst girlfriend on the planet.

"Oh, baby," she crooned. "I'm so sorry that I have to leave you. Will you promise me to take care of yourself? To rest and to not overdo it while I'm gone? You need to get better." She paused. "For me, ok?"

Rachel blearily blinked her eyes open. "It's just a tickle in my throat. But I _never_ get a tickle in my throat. I _never_ get sick, Quinn. I don't understand this." She sighed. "I'm going to go straight home and increase my vitamin regimen three-fold. And drink a scalding cup of herbal tea. And perhaps have my dad take me to the nearest acupuncturist."

Quinn grinned. "That's my girl." She leaned across the damned center console and kissed Rachel on the cheek tenderly.

"Quinn," Rachel half-heartedly attempted to fend off the other girl. "Don't get too close! I can't risk making you sick before your competition."

Quinn just laughed and kissed Rachel's other cheek. When she pulled back, Rachel was giving her a shy smile.

Quinn was about to lean in for one final kiss – on Rachel's lips, of course – when there came a sharp '_tap tap tap_' against Quinn's window. Both girls gasped (Rachel attempted to scream, but nothing came out – thus resulting in her clutching her throat dramatically), and Quinn turned in her seat to figure out who was intruding.

She was met with the stern glare of Coach Sylvester.

Quinn turned back to Rachel. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. But I have to go. I'll call you once we get to the airport in Atlanta to let you know we made it and to check on you, ok?"

Rachel just nodded. She was trying not to cry.

Quinn gave her one final kiss on the forehead, wrapping her in a quick hug before pulling back and saying, "I love you."

Rachel replied with her own reverently whispered, "I love you too, Quinn Fabray," before Quinn was hopping out and grabbing her bags.

Quinn waved good-bye to Rachel over her shoulder as Sue escorted her towards the charter bus. "How old are you, Q, sixteen?" Quinn nodded. "Have you ever kissed a boy?" Quinn nodded again – this time, with a healthy dose of skepticism and curiosity. "Do you think you're gay, Q? Or straight?"

At this, Quinn almost stumbled. She didn't know. She honestly didn't. So that's what she told her Coach.

They reached the bus and Sue took Quinn's bags, tossing them underneath the bus before saying, "Good. You know why? Because how can you _possibly_ know? That's the problem – your generation is _obsessed_ with labels. So you and that band of misfits enjoy singing _show tunes_ – that doesn't mean you're all gay, it just means you're _awful. _And you know what?" Sue's voice lowered to a soft, conspiratorial tone and she placed her hand on Quinn's shoulder. The blonde automatically leaned forward slightly, more than a little intrigued to hear what Sue had to say. "There's only one person in this world who can tell you what you are." Quinn pointed towards her own chest, eyebrows raised. "No," Sue replied, pointing at herself instead. "Me. And I haven't quite made up my mind about you yet, Q."

And then Sue was climbing on the bus. And Quinn was following in her wake, completely and utterly confused. Because Sue Sylvester said a lot of crazy things, and Quinn had learned to ignore most of it a lot of the time. But Sue – in her own weird, delusional, and self-absorbed way – had actually been really insightful.

Quinn plopped down in a seat across the aisle from Santana and Brittany. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Rachel.

**Quinn:** I miss you already.

Santana leaned across the open space between them and snatched Quinn's phone from her. Quinn didn't even object.

"Oh _god_, kill me now. Am I going to have to deal with your Rachel Berry Withdrawal Symptoms for an entire week?" She mock-shuddered. Brittany giggled and just ran her fingertips up and down Santana's exposed arm.

Quinn just sighed, leaning her head back against the window with her feet propped up in the seat. Santana tossed Quinn's phone back onto her lap. When it vibrated a few seconds later, Quinn eagerly flipped it open.

**Rachel:** Just remember – if I completely lose my voice and can no longer communicate with you by the time you get home – that I have a recording under my bed of myself performing every single solo in my repertoire so you'll never have to forget what I sound like. Have a safe trip, love.

Quinn closed her eyes and smiled to herself, happy in the moment to accept the fact that – even though she wasn't with her – Rachel was hers and she was Rachel's. And when the Cheerios came home, Quinn would be coming home to her girlfriend.

* * *

By the end of school the next day, Rachel was attempting not to panic.

Mr. Schuester walked into the choir room well before glee rehearsal only to find Rachel pulling out bottle after bottle from her bag and placing them on the piano. Curiously, he approached her.

"Uhh, Rachel? Is everything…ok?"

Immediately, Rachel's eyes snapped to his. "Do I look ok?" she demanded.

Will bit his tongue.

"Well, I'm _not_ ok. It started as a tickle in the back of my throat. Now it's progressed to a searing pain – accompanied by fever and headache and _this_," she gestured to her throat, indicating her incredibly raspy voice. Her shoulders fell and she lamely gestured towards the bottles on the piano. "These are my vitamins." She spoke monotonously. "I've tripled my intake. I'm hoping to see positive results by tomorrow."

Will put his hand on her shoulder. "Do you think maybe you should just go to…a…doctor…?" With each word, Rachel's glare had intensified. By the end of his sentence, Will simply threw his hands up in the air defensively. "It's only a suggestion!" he said.

Rachel's shoulders slumped in defeat before she began divvying out each of her vitamins into a small (read: large) pile. The other members of the glee club had started to file in by then – though their numbers were significantly lowered without Quinn, Brittany, and Santana.

Once Rachel took her tiny (read: mountainous) pile of vitamins, she raked her hand across the top of the piano, piling all of the bottles back into her open backpack. She sluggishly turned and plopped into a chair in the front row. Tina hesitantly approached Rachel when she entered the room.

"Rachel?" Tina questioned. Rachel just swung her head around on her shoulders limply to stare at the other girl. "Have you thought about going to the doctor?"

Rachel didn't even have the energy to glare again. She sighed, and Tina instantly felt an overwhelming surge of pity for the sick girl – she really did look adorably pathetic. "I don't want to ask my dads to take off work to go with me…" A moment. "Not that I approve of going. At all. Because I don't."

Tina smiled placatingly before rubbing Rachel's knee in a comforting gesture. "No worries, Rachel. I'll take you after practice."

Rachel nodded. However, her nod seemed to have thrown something loose – because the room immediately started to tilt dangerously. "Perhaps," she swallowed heavily. "Perhaps we should go now."

* * *

"What if he says I'll never sing again?" Rachel questioned her friend – who was spinning around in the spinny-doctor's chair. "I mean, who am I without my voice? I'm just this spoiled, annoying, pregnant girl who –"

"Don't say that," Tina interrupted her. "There's like, _so _many awesome things about you, Rachel."

A curiously hopeful look came to Rachel's face. "Like?"

"You're beautiful, Rachel. You have an equally as beautiful girlfriend who is _clearly_ in love with you. You are a _fantastic_ choreographer and an adequate dancer –" (both girls smiled at this bit) " – and, besides, he's not gonna say that you'll never sing again."

As soon as these words left Tina's lips, the doctor walked into the room proclaiming, "Bad news, Rachel. You'll probably never sing again."

Rachel gasped and sat upright instantly – though the room spun dangerously again.

"I'm kidding," the doctor said. Rachel wanted to punch him. "You have severe tonsillitis which has resulted in an inner ear infection. From the looks of things, it's not the first time. You should have had them out years ago."

"Why should I let you butcher my throat when just arresting my voice for a week and chugging down herbal tea will do the same job?" She was breathing deeply and attempting not to sway back and forth. Tina stood and rubbed her hand in circles on Rachel's back.

"This is a very serious infection," the doctor reiterated. Unnecessary.

Tina spoke up. "I think she's worried about the surgery affecting her singing voice."

The doctor sighed and just stared at Rachel for a beat. "At least start by taking these antibiotics," he said while scribbling away in what was most likely completely illegible handwriting. "Unless you think they're going to adversely affect your dance moves."

When Rachel took the script from him, she may have jerked it from between his fingers a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary.

Tina watched the doctor leave before turning back to Rachel. But the look on Rachel's face immediately alarmed Tina – the girl looked broken and lost and scared. "What do you think I should do?" Rachel asked.

"I think it's a decision that you and your dads will have to make, Rachel. But you should try the antibiotics first." Tina paused and bit her lip before saying, "I'm really sorry that it was me here with you and not Quinn."

At Tina's statement, Rachel looked up immediately. Tina was alarmed to see tears swimming in her eyes. "Oh, Tina," Rachel sighed. "No! Please don't think that. I've always appreciated your friendship, and I'm so glad that you were here with me today." Her shoulders slumped again. "I would hug you. But I don't want you to get sick."

Tina smiled brightly and said, "Oh, screw that," before pulling Rachel into a gentle embrace.

When they finally pulled apart, Rachel sniffled. Unsurely, she said, "I'm afraid that any surgery will cause complications with my pregnancy."

Tina's eyebrows rose slightly before she gestured back towards the door and said, "Well, let me go get the doctor again! We'll ask him about it!"

She was already making her way to the door when Rachel stopped her. "No," she said. "I'll deal with that if the antibiotics – and the herbal tea – don't work."

* * *

The next day – when Kurt was dressed in flannel and a trucker hat and loose-fitting jeans and Rachel was on her _fourth_ dose of incredibly strong antibiotics – Rachel proclaimed, "Is this real life?" after Kurt finished singing a Mellencamp song.

In response, Mercedes reached over and placed the back of her hand against Rachel's forehead. "Damn girl, you are _burning_ up."

Rachel didn't really respond. She just sat there. But she was _determined_ not to seem so sick that she would need surgery.

She was determined.

* * *

The next day, Finn looked up from his locker and saw Rachel walking down the hallway. She was wearing a heavy sweater over what appeared to be pajamas and slippers. In her hands was a bowl of cereal. Her hair looked messy – as if she simply hadn't bothered to re-braid it from the previous day.

Finn closed his locker and walked up to the sick girl as she took a bite of cereal. "Are you like, _sleepwalking?_"

"You have to be able to _sleep_ to sleepwalk," she said grumpily. "I am on my third day of antibiotics, and I am not getting _any_ better. Which means I'm going to have to have surgery. Which means… _My life is over_."

Finn stooped his shoulders down and looked Rachel directly in the eyes. "Don't you think you're being a little dramatic? Even for you?" Rachel dropped the spoonful of cereal she was about to eat back down into the bowl and looked at Finn with a fiercely annoyed expression on her face. "I'm so sick of you feeling sorry for yourself!"

"Why don't you get it?" Rachel rasped out. "I _am_ my _voice_! I am like Tinkerbell, Finn. I need applause… _to live!_" She attempted not to cry by distracting herself with another bite of cereal.

Finn took a deep breath before saying, "I've got a friend I want you to meet."

"Not another doctor," Rachel grumbled. "I've seen six already."

"No," Finn said. "He's an old friend of mine."

Rachel didn't say yes, but she didn't say no either.

* * *

Later that day – after Rachel had gone home and showered and put on legitimate clothes – Finn picked her up and drove her to one of their neighboring towns.

They pulled up in front of the house and Finn turned in his seat towards Rachel. "I have to warn you about him," he said.

Tiredly, Rachel shifted in her seat. "Is he a bigger diva than me?" she questioned.

Finn chuckled. "Well, he can be sometimes." A sobering expression fell across Finn's face. "He's paralyzed, Rachel. I met him at football camp a couple summers ago. Later that same season, he had an accident on the field. He's paralyzed from the chest down. But I thought…" He sighed. "I thought that, maybe, hearing it from him would make your situation seem a little less awful."

Rachel opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, unaware as to what she should say. Finally, she looked back at Finn. "Does he get many visitors?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know for sure. I try and visit him once or twice a month."

Rachel nodded, and they got out of Finn's car.

Finn rang the doorbell. In just a few moments, the door swung open.

"Hello," a lovely middle-aged woman said as she opened the door.

'Hi, Mrs. Fretthold. This is Rachel."

The woman smiled brightly at Rachel, "Pretty!" she said approvingly. Finn just grinned awkwardly – and Rachel didn't feel well enough to correct her. "I'll tell Sean you're here," she said while closing the door behind them. "Sorry it's such a mess. I've been on the phone to the insurance company all day."

"That's fine," Finn said.

Rachel approached a table in the hall. It had a picture of an attractive young man in a blue football uniform, number eight emblazoned brightly on his chest. "Is this him?" Rachel asked. Finn just nodded in response.

"He's ready for you," Mrs. Fretthold said.

Walking into Sean's room – even knowing the bit of information Finn had given her in the car – was still a shock to Rachel.

"Fab Five Finnster," Sean said when he saw the other boy walk in the room. Rachel stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Fretter!" Finn said before reaching over and pounding his fist with Sean's. "Sean, this is Rachel Berry. Rachel, this is Sean Fretthold."

"Got a boyfriend, Rachel?" Sean asked with a smile on his face.

Rachel stammered for a moment. "N-no," she managed to get out.

His smile grew. "Sounds like I got a shot."

"Well, I have a girlfriend, actually." Finn grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets at Rachel's words.

Sean only made a mock-painful expression before chuckling lightly. "Fair enough," he said.

A few minutes later, Rachel has heard Sean's entire story – about him receiving his injury, finding out he was paralyzed, and trying to commit suicide. Rachel tries not to make it obvious that she's attempting not to cry.

"Finn says your voice is messed up," Sean states. Rachel just nods slightly, a lost look on her face. "Is it gonna come back?"

"I-I don't… I don't know."

"Pissed off about what you lost?" he questions again. Rachel's nod is small – but it's a nod nonetheless. "I was too," Sean said. "Like, real _rage_."

"I don't understand. Are you… _Happier_ now?" Rachel asked.

"Hell no," he said. "I'm miserable. I miss my body. I miss my life. I miss my friends. I miss girls. But I've realized over time that I've got other stuff going on. I'm more than just _one thing_. I'm good at math. And I can sing…"

As they left, Rachel muttered a soft, "Thanks."

"For what?" Sean asked.

"Just umm…" She paused and thought about it. _For showing me that I'm lucky. For showing me that I'm more than just my voice. For pointing out that I have my friends and my family and Quinn and this baby growing inside of me – and that my voice is just one part of who I am; it's not my entire identity_. "Thanks."

* * *

Two days later, Rachel woke up at six o'clock sharp. She rolled over and unlocked her phone.

**Quinn: **How are you feeling this morning, baby?

Rachel couldn't help but smile. And then she couldn't help but realize that her throat didn't hurt. And her head wasn't pounding. And the room wasn't spinning!

**Rachel: **I'm cured! Good luck today, my love. I get to see you soon!

As she got onto her elliptical and started her morning workout routine (her much subdued workout routine since her stomach was getting to be quite large), her mind drifted to Sean laying there in his bed – sad and lonely and unable to move himself.

_Well_, Rachel thought. _Maybe I can be the one to move him_.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Mrs. Fretthold escorted Rachel into Sean's room.

"Hi," Rachel said quietly.

"Hey," Sean said. "Finn with you?"

"No," Rachel answered. "I came by myself. Is that ok?"

"Yeah," Sean answered simply.

"I umm… I just wanted to say thank you. For showing me that just because I'm not good at anything other than singing doesn't mean I'm not any good if I can't sing." She grinned at him as she said this, hoping that he could truly understand what he had done for her. And hoping that she could do something for him. "Though I do admit that that sounded like a _really bad_ greeting card." She laughed at herself.

Sean smiled. "No," he said. "It was cool."

Trying not to let awkward silence settle, Rachel said, "Well anyways, I was thinking I could maybe return the favor. I thought I could give you singing lessons. It sort've seemed like an area of interest for you. I could come by like, once a week or something? And we could just see how it goes?" Her demeanor became even more serious as she said, "I've helped almost everyone in our glee club. Some by brute force."

"So your voice came back," Sean said – a statement more than a question.

Rachel nodded. "Turns out that a _heroic_ dose of antibiotics and a mysterious blend of herbal remedies _and _ a vow of silence is all it takes to cure tonsillitis." She smiled again. "I'll probably have to have my tonsils out eventually. But I'm not scared anymore."

Sean smiled. "So do you wanna give it a spin now?"

"Sing with you?" Rachel questioned. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd be honored."

As they sang together, Rachel let her fears go.

"_Is it getting better?  
Or do you feel the same?  
Will it make it easier on you now  
You got someone to blame?"_

And Sean felt like maybe… just maybe, this was still a life worth living.

"_You say,  
One love,  
One life,  
When it's one need,  
In the night.  
One love,  
We get to share it,  
Leaves you, baby,  
If you don't care for it."

* * *

_

Later that night – after Rachel had recorded her solo rendition of _One_ for her MySpace video of the day – she received a call from Quinn.

"_Hi baby. How are you feeling? Are you sure you're totally better?"_

"I'm sure," Rachel replied. She smiled slightly – a small tinge of sadness on her face and in her voice, for Sean.

"_You sound sad_."

"No!" Rachel practically shouted. "Quit teasing me! When are you going to tell me whether or not the Cheerios won Nationals?"

Quinn laughed into her phone. Rachel nearly swooned. "_Yes, we won,"_ Quinn simply said. "_And Santana pants-d Brittany onstage. And Brittany wasn't wearing underwear."_

Rachel burst out into a fantastic laugh. On the charter bus to their hotel, Quinn nearly swooned. "I'll see you tomorrow evening, right?" Rachel questioned.

"_Yeah_," Quinn said. "_We'll get to Cincinnati around three or so in the afternoon. And then we'll be in Lima around five. Are you gonna pick me up?"_

"Absolutely, Miss Fabray. I wouldn't have it any other way."

There was a moment where neither girl said anything. Rachel bit her lip. "_I love you_," Quinn said.

"I love you, too," Rachel replied. "I'll talk to you later?"

"_I'll call you tomorrow morning before school._"

"Good night."

"_Good night, Rach_."

* * *

Their plane landed about three minutes late. Which meant that Quinn was going to see Rachel approximately three minutes later than previously scheduled. She sighed grumpily and turned her phone back on since it was off the entire flight.

Next to her, Santana rolled her eyes. "Checking on your wifey?"

Quinn glanced at Santana out of the corner of her eye. She scoffed and said, "Yeah, you're one to talk."

Brittany was curled up in her seat – fast asleep – with her head resting precariously on Santana's shoulder. The brunette was sitting steadfastly still in order to not wake the blonde. "Pfft," Santana said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure, Santana. Sure…"

As the Cheerios' entourage made their way towards the baggage carousels, Quinn felt an uneasy dip in her stomach. She had texted Rachel when they had landed to tell her their exact arrival time in the high school parking lot. But Rachel hadn't texted back yet. It had been a good fifteen or twenty minutes. And Rachel was a dedicated text-message-responder. Quinn chewed her lip thoughtfully.

They approached the proper carousel – Baggage Carousel #3 – and they stood idly by while waiting for the arrival of all their luggage.

But a voice was carrying through the lobby area. And Quinn literally felt her blood run cold and drain from her body. Frantically, she whipped her head from side-to-side, attempting to locate the origin of the voice.

And when Quinn saw Judy Fabray gesturing frantically at a guard in the security booth on the far side of the atrium, she hysterically reached out and latched onto Santana's arm.

"Ouch!" Santana hissed. "Damn, Fabray, what the hell is wrong with –" But then Santana turned in the direction of Quinn's gaze, realizing what was causing Quinn to freak out. "Oh my God…" Santana whispered. She immediately gripped Quinn's hand in her own and made her way to Coach Sylvester, alerting the woman to the presence of Quinn's mother.

Together, all three of them approached Mrs. Fabray.

"Excuse me," Sue said, clearing her throat loudly to get Judy's attention.

The woman spun sharply on her heel and almost launched herself at her daughter, a look of sheer relief on her face as she exclaimed, "Oh, Quinnie!"

But Santana stepped in front of her roughly, pushing her back away from her daughter.

"As Quinn's caretaker during this trip, I'd like to know what right you think you have showing up here. There is a warrant for the arrest of both you and your husband, and –"

"My husband," Judy gasped out. "Quinnie, your father. That's why I'm here. I was so, _so_ certain that he was coming _here!_ Which is why I'm here. I was trying to stop him. But he's not here. He's not here and I don't know what he's going to do or where he's gone –"

"Slow down," Sue interrupted. "Please explain more clearly. We don't have time for you to ramble."

Quinn studied her mother. She had gotten sloppy with her makeup – Quinn could see at least two visible bruises on her face, and she had a terribly-concealed busted lip. Quinn wanted to cry as Judy wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to calm down enough to relay the status of the situation properly.

"Russell…" She trailed off. Sue snapped her fingers in front of the other woman's face. Judy refocused, her eyes locked firmly onto Quinn's as she softly uttered, "He's going to do something terrible. And I'm afraid that we're too late to stop him."

_Did I ask too much?  
More than a lot?  
You gave me nothing,  
Now that's all I got.  
We're one,  
But we're not the same.  
Well we,  
Hurt each other,  
Then we do it again. _


	35. Hallelujah

_A/N: The song used in this chapter is __**Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah."**__ If you don't own the song, it's on youtube, and it would be awesome if you took the time to look it up and listen to it while you read this chapter. (I just finished writing the chapter, and I'm completely emotionally drained. I hope you enjoy the finished product.)_

_**Note**__: When I say __**Present Day**__, I mean present day in the story – i.e., the day that Quinn is coming back from Nationals._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**Fall 2008**

Rachel Berry walked down the hallway of William McKinley High School, a bright smile plastered across her features. Her knee-high socks, high-waisted skirt, and animal-embroidered argyle cardigan combined to complete her ensemble.

It was the first day of high school, and Rachel was bound and determined to set a precedent for the next four years of her life.

She hummed lightly under her breath as she approached a large bulletin board in one of the hallways near the main office of the school. She turned to face the massive board head on, and her eyes immediately began scanning the numerous, fresh sign-up sheets. She didn't even lose her focus when she reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a hot pink pen and a sheet of stickers. She popped the cap off, placing it on the opposite end of the pen, and then reached forward.

She signed up for the Speech Club.

And the Mock United Nations Club.

And the Renaissance Club.

And the Muslim Students Club.

And the Black Student Union.

And after each and every flourish of the final '_y_' on '_Berry_,' Rachel would place a shiny gold star – a metaphor that any and all future list-signers would see and take note of. _Because I'm going to be a star_, she thought to herself, smile still fully intact.

She was about to turn away from the bulletin board when one final sheet – tucked away in the upper left corner where she almost (_almost_) missed it – caught her eye.

Glee Club.

Anyone who had perhaps been witness to Rachel's demeanor throughout her First-Day-of-Class Bulletin Board Assault would have claimed that the girl's smile could not have possibly grown at all – or else her face would have been at risk for permanent damage. But when Rachel saw '_Glee Club'_ at the top of the piece of paper, her heart soared and her smile _grew_.

For as long as Rachel could remember, she had been singing. She would sing enthusiastically for her vocal coach and her dad and her daddy and her aunts and uncles and grandparents – one time, in elementary school, she had performed '_Funny Girl_' for her school's talent show. Some kids had laughed, and Rachel had naively assumed that they just didn't quite get the point of the song. The day after the talent show, little Noah Puckerman had come up and poked Rachel in the chest, telling her that she was a '_stupid singer girl'_ and that he was sure she had '_cooties_.' Rachel had stuck out her lip and put on a brave face, simply stating that, '_I don't have time for your foolishness, Noah. Someday, you'll be working for me._' The little boy had stuck his tongue out at her before running off. As soon as he was out of sight, Rachel's eyes began to tear up, and she wiped at them furiously. The substitute teacher had apparently noticed, and she approached Rachel before crouching down and saying, '_If you can imagine it, it can come true._' Rachel had contemplated her words for a moment before smiling and saying, '_Thanks, Miss Holiday_.'

And she hadn't really ever stopped singing since then.

With one last flourish, Rachel signed her name on the list for the glee club – and thus cemented her High School Fate. She pressed _two_ gold stars on the paper – one at the beginning of her name, and one at the end.

Satisfied with her work, she placed her pen and stickers back in her bag and turned to walk towards her first class of the day.

And she was met with her first ever Slushy Facial.

She gasped, momentarily blinded. A look of horror crossed her face. She tried to ignore the awful, slow-motion laughter that was filling her ears – time had slowed down and was basically creeping along at a snail's pace as Rachel attempted to figure out what the heck had just happened. She reached up and windshield-wiped her eyes with her fingers.

There, right across the hall – a girls' bathroom. As she surged forward to push the door inward – and find sanctuary within – she was met with no resistance where the door should have been. Because someone had just swung the door open from the inside. Rachel's eyes snapped up from the ground and landed on the girl's eyes in front of her.

Rachel's gaze was met with a sea of hazel and confusion. For a small handful of seconds, their eyes had remained locked.

"E-Excuse me," Rachel had stammered before dropping the stare and shimmying past the girl in the freshly pressed cheerleading uniform. The moment was gone.

As Quinn exited the bathroom – jaw slightly lowered in shock from the mess of a girl she had just witnessed – she allowed herself to momentarily wonder what exactly it was she had seen in those deep, soulful brown eyes…

_Well I heard there was a secret chord,  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord,  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this,  
The fourth, the fifth,  
The minor fall, the major lift,  
The baffled king composing '__Hallelujah__.'_

**

* * *

Fall 2009**

_Dear God…_

Quinn rested her forehead gently against the backs of her hands. She was kneeling on the small bench in front of her pew. She was praying.

_Please forgive me for my sins._

Her eyes, which were previously squeezed tightly shut, blinked open. She was hesitant. She wasn't quite sure what it was she should be praying for forgiveness from. She looked up. In front of her was a beautiful stained-glass window. She closed her eyes and bowed her head again.

_Forgive me for not seeing the beauty that has been right in front of my eyes._

Quinn thought back to the glee club's performance of _Keep Holding On_ that she had orchestrated. For Rachel.

_I'm trying to change. Please help me stay on this path._

But Quinn knew what her heart was telling her. She knew what she was feeling. She had always been taught that it was wrong. In fact, it was more than _just_ wrong – it was unforgivable.

_Unless this path is undesirable to you._

Quinn believed in God. Or else, why would she be here in this moment? She needed something – some sign or experience or divine tap on the shoulder – to guide her.

_Please forgive me for how I have treated people in the past. Forgive me for tearing people down in an attempt to build myself up. Forgive me for blindly following my father. Forgive me for lying to the people around me through my actions._

Quinn began to silently cry as she realized that she could be here for hours, simply listing the wrongs she believed needed to be righted in her life.

_Please forgive me for this person I have become._

Quinn inhaled once – a deep, shuddering breath. Her hand delicately touched the cross that was around her neck, pressing it against her flesh. It dug into her skin.

_Amen._

Opening her eyes, she took in the church around her – the beauty and the magnificence and the peace that she wanted to feel but couldn't quite grasp were all tangible in the air around her. Soft footsteps echoed up the aisle, and Quinn turned as the preacher walked towards where she was sitting. She leaned back, effectively sitting in the pew behind where she had previously been kneeling. She crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap. Brother David sat down in the pew in front of Quinn and turned so that he was sitting cock-eyed in the seat to face her.

"Good afternoon, Quinn."

"Hello," Quinn said. She was shocked at the softness of her own voice and surprised that it seemed to carry as far as it did.

"Is everything alright?" David gently asked.

Quinn bit her lip and looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. _Is everything alright?_ she asked herself. Slowly, she shook her head once.

"Something you'd like to talk about?"

A handful of tears escaped and landed on the skin of Quinn's wrists. "Have you ever…" she began, but soon trailed off. David simply sat, patiently waiting. Quinn breathed deeply and continued. "Have you ever been taught that something was wrong, but then you experienced it – and when you experienced it, your heart was leading you to believe that it _wasn't _wrong, that it could never possible be wrong, _ever_? That if the God that you love and believe in couldn't love you back because of your thoughts and feelings and emotions… That maybe," Quinn paused and looked up hesitantly at David, worried that she would be damning herself with her next words and frightened that David would tell her exactly that. "He's not a God worth believing in?"

David nodded slowly before saying, "_Blessed are those who have been persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven._" He reached his long arm over the back of the pew and grasped one of Quinn's hands in his own. With his thumb, he lightly stroked away some of the wetness from her tears. "Our God is a merciful, forgiving, and all-loving God, Quinn. Whatever you're struggling with, you can't lose sight of that – no matter what the people in your life –" he paused "– or in your home tell you to the contrary."

Quinn's eyes flashed with emotion and gratitude. "Thank you," she softly replied, trying to convey with every syllable that the preacher sitting in front of her may have just saved her life. "Thank you so much."

Giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go and standing, David said, "I'm always here if you want to talk, Quinn." He smiled kindly and then proceeded to walk towards the front of the church and through a side door on the right.

As the minutes ticked by, Quinn remained sitting in the pew. Finally, she leaned forward again, kneeling on the prayer bench.

_Dear God, thank you for giving me the capacity to change and grow and to love with all my heart. And thank you for loving me – exactly as I am. Amen._

The next day at school, Quinn was walking down the hallway and she noticed Rachel heading in her direction. As they passed each other, Rachel glanced up and their eyes connected. Rachel shyly smiled at Quinn before biting her lip slightly (_did she just start blushing? _Quinn wondered) and continuing on her way down the hall.

And when Quinn stopped in her tracks, turned on her heel, and stared at the pregnant girl walking away from her with her head held high, she felt an indisputable and completely unaccounted for wave of peace and calm wash over her body from head to toe. She closed her eyes and couldn't help the smile that came over her face.

When she took her seat in her next class, she took a minute to close her eyes and rest her head on her desk.

_Thank you_, she thought. _Thank you._

Again, she lightly touched the golden cross hanging around her neck. But this time, the cool metal didn't press roughly against her flesh – it felt soothing and _right_ underneath her fingertips.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof,  
You saw her bathing on the roof,  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.  
She tied you,  
To her kitchen chair,  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair,  
And from your lips she drew the '__Hallelujah__.'_

**

* * *

Present Day, 2:49 PM**

"And you can always give us a call here if you have any questions or concerns about the medication, ok dear?" Brendon stood in the pharmacist's window, leaning down to address the tiny little old lady who was standing in front of him and clutching her prescription to her chest.

She reached her arm up and lightly patted the palm of her hand against Brendon's cheek in a loving manner. "Thank you so much, Mr. Berry. You've always been my favorite pill-pusher," she cheekily remarked before turning and walking out of the store.

Brendon just chuckled and shook his head, thinking to himself that Mrs. Johnston was a pretty awesome lady.

He turned back to the shelves housing the different medications, continuing to take inventory where he had left off before the brief – and pleasant – interruption.

Cassie, Brendon's lead technician, was typing away at her computer as she offhandedly said, "Mrs. Johnston has had a crush on you for years."

Laughing, Brendon replied, "Well, let's not tell Marcus, shall we? Mrs. Johnston and I have managed to keep our secret love affair _secret_ this long, no sense in ruining it now." He winked.

Both Brendon and Cassie laughed wholeheartedly at Brendon's joking admission. As they settled down – Brendon getting back to the inventory and Cassie proceeding to type out several new prescriptions – Cassie smiled faintly. _He's such a good guy, _she thought.

The bell above the door rang gently through the air, and Cassie drug her eyes away from her screen to stare at the patron who had just walked in.

"Hello," she greeted the man with a smile. "Can I help you?"

When he didn't reply immediately, Cassie took the time to take in his full appearance. They worked in a pharmacy, after all, and they saw every type of person every single day. This man had an intense look in his eyes, and he was clenching and unclenching his fists over and over. _I wonder if he's a user_, Cassie thought as she continued to wait on his response.

The man shifted from foot to foot. He turned his shoulder back towards the door for a moment, as if contemplating walking straight back out. But he didn't. Instead, he finally approached the counter, and Cassie moved to wait on him – perhaps he needed help finding something. "What can I do for you today?" Cassie tried again.

_Finally_, he spoke. "I'm looking for a Mr. Berry."

His words were short and clipped. Cassie glanced down at his clenched fists again. He noticed and quickly stuffed them into his coat pockets. "Sure, I'll let him know you would like to speak with him. Just a second."

She turned and went amongst the stacks. Brendon was on the opposite side of the drug area – the likely reason that he hadn't already come over to see what the issue was. "Umm, Brendon?"

Immediately, Brendon's head snapped up and he lowered the notepad and pencil he was using. "Yes? Is everything alright?"

"There's a man here who wants to talk to you." Cassie's tone was unsure.

"Is there something else?"

"He seems really fidgety. It might be nothing, I'm not sure. He's probably just going to ask for some syringes or oxy or something, I don't know. Just… I had a bad feeling." She shifted her weight to the right foot and stood with her hand on her chin.

"Ahh," Brendon said. "Well, I guess I'll just have to see what he wants, no?" His tone was bright and unconcerned, trying to calm the girl's irrational fears. He put a kind hand on her shoulder and edged passed her.

Cassie stood still, remaining in the back. She couldn't describe it accurately, if at all, but something felt inherently _wrong_. She turned and headed back towards her work station at the front.

Brendon stuck his hands in the pockets of his white coat before approaching the counter. He didn't immediately see anyone at all, and he almost assumed that the fretful man who had needed his help had simply left in the time it took Brendon to come to the front.

But then the man stepped around the corner – he was practically right in front of Brendon now. Brendon gasped, his eyebrows rising in shock. "Mr. Fabray," he addressed the man in front of him, removing his hands from his pockets and placing them firmly on the counter in front of him.

For a moment – but only a moment – Russell was shocked that the man knew who he was. Then he sneered. "So you know who I am?"

Brendon nodded. "Yes, I know who you are."

"Then you know my daughter."

Again, Brendon nodded. "Yes, I know your daughter."

The way Brendon said it annoyed Russell. It annoyed him a lot. "Don't act like you _know_ my daughter," he snarled. Brendon didn't bother correcting Russell with the fact that _he_ said it first. "You don't know her at all."

"I think you should go," Brendon said softly, but strongly. "I _will_ call the police. You're wanted for arrest. For what you did to that little girl whom you claim I don't know."

Russell growled. Like, _literally _growled. "Don't you talk down to me, you _faggot_."

Brendon didn't react to Russell's slur at all. He had lived in a small town for far too long to be bothered by the insecurities of the masses. Instead, he just said, "Why exactly is it that you are here?"

"Your family has _perverted _my daughter. She is _not_ like you! And your little _whore_ of a daughter is taking advantage of her. I won't stand for it!" He slammed his fist down on the counter. "I _will_ protect my family."

Brendon shouldn't have said it. In fact, he knew as soon as the words were crossing his lips that a man as deranged as Russell Fabray did not need to be pushed. But he said it anyway. "If beating your daughter senseless and breaking her ribs and emotionally scarring her is what you call _protecting your family_, then you deserve an award."

Russell's lip curled and he reached with his right hand inside the left breast pocket of his coat.

He pulled out a gleaming, silver handgun.

Maybe Russell had planned a speech before he came in. Maybe he had sat in his car for hours trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say in this moment. Maybe he had considered the consequences – and maybe he hadn't. But he didn't talk. And he didn't hesitate. Rachel's dad didn't even have time to run.

Cassie screamed and hit the floor when the shot rang out. She frantically jammed her thumb on the emergency alarm button (that she had been poised to push ever since coming back to her computer) over and over and over.

Brendon's eyes were wide with shock.

Russell Fabray didn't stand around and wait to see the fruits of his labors – he turned and ran out of the pharmacy.

Brendon's knees buckled immediately, and he fell backwards on the floor, skidding a good two or three feet. Gasping for air, Brendon cried out in pain. His synapses were firing white-hot lances of pain throughout his entire body. Time slowed down as adrenaline immediately began to course through his veins furiously.

Cassie crawled on her hands and knees towards Brendon, hovering over his body. She immediately found the wound where the bullet had entered – at the junction of his upper arm and shoulder on the left side – and began applying pressure.

"Help is on the way," Cassie managed to say through her sobbing. "Help is coming."

Brendon wanted to nod. He wanted to move his head in a gesture of understanding and support for Cassie, so she would stop crying. But he couldn't. And in less than a minute from the time Russell Fabray had pulled the trigger, blackness engulfed Brendon's vision.

_Maybe there's a God above,  
But all I've ever learned from love,  
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.  
And it's not a cry that you hear at night,  
It's not somebody who's seen the light,  
It's a cold and it's a broken '__Hallelujah__.'_

**

* * *

Present Day, 2:58 PM**

Rachel sat in her last class of the day. She was leaning on her desk, chin in her left hand while her right hand idly drummed a pencil back and forth on the surface. She began daydreaming…

_Rachel was older – probably 24 or 25 – and she was walking through the park. On her right side, Quinn was walking along next to her. Their fingers were loosely entwined, dangling back and forth between them as they walked._

_At a curve in the path, they stopped and sat down on a bench. Quinn, being a bit taller, sat up straight and wrapped her left arm around Rachel's shoulder. Rachel pulled both of her feet up and under her body before leaning heavily against Quinn._

_It was springtime in New York City, and it was beautiful._

_In front of the young women, there was a jungle gym. They watched – with the eyes of seasoned parents – for their daughter. Rachel giggled as she saw the little girl swing across the monkey bars like a pro. Quinn smiled fondly, tearing her gaze away from the tiny girl for a moment to plant a loving kiss on the top of Rachel's head._

"_She's beautiful, isn't she?" Rachel questioned._

_Quinn laughed softly. "You know that she is. But she has beautiful parents, you know. I may dislike Jesse St. James with a passion, but there's no arguing that he's not easy on the eyes."_

_Rachel turned her face upwards, catching sight of Quinn as the blonde stared reverently at her child – __**their**__ child. Unable to resist, Rachel reached up with her left hand and cupped Quinn's cheek, turning her face towards Rachel's. The cool metal of Rachel's wedding band brushed against Quinn's skin. She then kissed her hungrily, tasting the sweetness of her wife's lips._

_When air became an issue, they broke apart. Rachel wrapped both of her arms around Quinn's waist and sighed – a sigh full of contentment and happiness and __**love**__._

"_Where have you been all my life?" Quinn murmured against the top of Rachel's head._

_Rachel smiled brightly. "Right here," she said, emphasizing her words with her hand, lightly pressing it over Quinn's heart._

_The pitter-pattering of tiny feet running towards them distracted the women momentarily._

"_Mom!" the little girl exclaimed. "Mommy!" she yelled before skidding to a stop in front of the park bench. "Did you see me on the monkey bars?"_

"_Yes, Colby, we saw you," Quinn smiled brightly at their daughter. "You were spectacular!"_

"_The absolute __**best**_ _monkey-bar-swinger-acrosser I have perhaps ever seen in my entire life!" Rachel proclaimed excitedly, sitting up and opening her arms. Colby eagerly jumped into them, sitting on Rachel's lap._

_Quinn reached over and lovingly brushed her hand through Colby's long, wavy brown hair. The little girl's light brown eyes sparkled brightly. "Do we get to go to your show tonight, Mommy?" Colby asked with awe and excitement coating her voice._

_Rachel tapped her chin thoughtfully with her forefinger. "Hmmm, I don't know… Quinn? What do you think?"_

_Quinn leaned forward, kissing both of her girls sweetly on the cheek before saying, "I think that would just be the perfect end to a perfect day, don't you?" Colby giggled in delight and jumped down onto the ground before turning back and wrapping one tiny arm around each of her mothers' necks._

_Smiling, Rachel said, "Let's go home, girls."_

_With Colby in between them – one hand in each of her mothers' – the little family made their way home._

Rachel blinked out of her daydream as the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. _Colby_, she thought. _Perfect_. She gathered her things from her desk and headed towards her locker.

_You say I took the name in vain,  
I don't even know the name,  
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?  
There's a blaze of light,  
In every word,  
It doesn't matter which you heard,  
The holy or the broken '__Hallelujah__.'_

**

* * *

December 29****th****, 2009**

Rachel's room was dark. Only the soft glow of the television on the other side of the room provided any illumination. _The L Word_ was playing. The volume was low, but both girls could still hear it without disturbing Rachel's dads who had already gone to bed. Ever since their sleepover months ago when Quinn had let her limited exposure to the show slip, Rachel had been trying to get Quinn to finish watching the series.

"_It's very informative_," Rachel had claimed.

And so they had been watching an episode or two each night before they would finally fall asleep in each other's arms.

But tonight, something was different.

Rachel was lying on her back, propped up on several pillows. Quinn was curled up next to Rachel, her head in the crook of Rachel's shoulder and her hand rubbing light circles on Rachel's baby bump. Rachel, however, kept fidgeting. Quinn wanted to pay attention to the show, yes; but something about the way Rachel kept crossing and uncrossing her legs was distracting. So she found herself observing Rachel instead of the show.

A particularly heavy scene began to unfold onscreen, and Quinn could literally discern the quickening of Rachel's heartbeat under her ear. Quinn wasn't naïve, by any means. And she _was_ lying in bed with her girlfriend. Said girlfriend's parents were already asleep…

So Quinn lightly drug her fingers underneath the hem of Rachel's sleep shirt, trailing them upwards to reside in their previous position against Rachel's baby bump – but this time, there was no material between them. Skin on skin caused Rachel's breath to catch in her throat, and she released the tiniest of whimpers.

"Rach?" Quinn questioned her girlfriend.

"Hmm?"

"Are you ok?"

When Rachel didn't answer, Quinn looked up at her face. The other girl's eyes were resolutely closed and her lips were parted while she attempted to maintain steady breathing. Again, Quinn repeated, "Are you ok?"

Rachel's eyelids did that fluttery-opened thing that she tended to do, and Quinn's own heartbeat sped up a little. "I'm fine," she muttered. "Just…"

"Just…?"

Rachel sighed before she finally admitted, "I'm just really, _really _turned on right now."

Quinn had to bite her lip and suppress her own rampant hormones momentarily before leaning up on one elbow and staring down at the girl below her. "Is that a bad thing?"

Rachel's eyes shifted away from Quinn's as she chewed thoughtfully on her lip, attempting to figure out precisely how to word what she was about to say. "Quinn, you're President of the Celibacy Club."

Quinn's face lit up with an amused smile as she giggled behind one hand. "Yeah, because my _Dad_ wanted me to be. Because my older sister was. And because he wanted me to be crowned Princess of the Chastity Ball." She turned serious and ran her thumb over Rachel's cheekbone. "Not because I actually _wanted_ to be."

"But surely the morals with which you grew up and the religious practices –"

Quinn cut her off with a kiss. She pulled back and, with her lips still brushing against Rachel's, she said, "Sometimes, things just feel right. God doesn't hate me for loving you – or you for loving me. And if we happen to do more than just kiss, who is anyone else in this world to look down on us for taking part in the physical manifestation of love?"

Finally, Rachel softly spoke. "I want you, Quinn. So incredibly much."

Quinn had never had a sexual experience beyond making-out, and Rachel didn't remember her own first time. So together – with their skin burning hotly and their mouths exploring and their hands touching and loving – they created totally new experiences. And when their bodies finally collapsed next to each other on the bed, they knew that this – their relationship and their love for each other and their _future_ – was _not_ wrong, that it simply could not be wrong in any universe where the feelings and emotions that they had just experienced together could exist.

"Thank you," Quinn quietly murmured against Rachel's cheek as she wrapped her arms around Rachel's naked body.

"For?" Rachel questioned, fingers trailing up and down Quinn's bare side.

"For being mine."

"Always," Rachel replied with a soft smile on her face.

Quinn reached behind her and pulled the blanket up and over their bodies. And when they fell asleep – each wrapped up in the other's arms – they dreamed of each other. And their dreams were sweet, indeed.

_There was a time you let me know,  
What's really going on below,  
But now you never show that to me, do ya?  
But remember when I moved in you,  
And the holy dove was moving too,  
And every breath we drew was '__Hallelujah__.'  
_

**

* * *

Present Day, 5:06 PM**

The charter bus pulled up right outside of Lima General Hospital. Before the bus had even come to a complete stop, Quinn was placed firmly in front of the bus's closed door.

"Come _**on**_!" she yelled at the bus driver. He was taking _forever_ to open the door.

No one – not Sue or Santana or Brittany or even dumb Hailey Robertson – bothered to tell Quinn to calm down. It would have been useless anyway.

Finally, the door opened, and Quinn was already halfway across the parking lot before Santana and Brittany were able to hop off the bus and take off in a run after their best friend.

_Dear God…_

Her breathing was erratic as she almost slammed into the '_automatic_' emergency room doors. They were taking far, _far_ too long to open (clearly having been manufactured by the same company as the charter bus door), so Quinn frantically beat both of her fists on them. They began to part, and Quinn slid in between them quickly before taking off at a run down the hallway.

_Please tell me that I didn't misinterpret your signs._

The slow sliding doors had better allowed Santana and Brittany to catch up to Quinn.

_Please forgive me…_

The attending emergency room nurse saw Quinn fly by and shouted out, "Hey!" But Quinn was already rounding the corner. Brittany stopped for a moment to placate the nurse. Santana continued running after Quinn.

…_For being selfish. For forcing my way into her life._

Quinn's feet pounded down the hallway. The white walls were oppressive. Quinn choked back her sobs as the memories flooded her mind from the last time she was here.

_Please forgive me for bringing this upon their family._

Quinn skidded to a stop in one of the waiting rooms. She felt lost. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't been able to find Marcus to ask him what was going on. Crumpling to a heap on the floor, Quinn began openly weeping.

_Please let everything turn out ok._

Santana caught up with her a few seconds later and fell to the floor beside Quinn, wrapping the trembling girl up in her arms as best as she could. Soon, Brittany came running around the corner with a nurse in tow.

_Amen._

And now, they wait.

_Baby I've been here before,  
I've seen this room, and I've walked this floor,  
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you.  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,  
Love is not a victory march,  
It's a cold and it's a broken '__Hallelujah__.'_

**

* * *

Present Day, 3:03 PM**

Closing her locker door behind her, Rachel turned towards the auditorium. There was no glee rehearsal today, so Rachel was going to work on something of her own.

She walked up the aisle of the auditorium towards the stage. At the front row, she deposited her backpack in a seat before reaching inside of it and pulling out a music book. Notebook firmly in hand, she climbed onto the stage – walking into the right wing momentarily to turn on the stage lights. Luckily, the piano that was partially hidden offstage had finely greased wheels, so it was relatively easy for Rachel to roll in onto the brightly lit stage.

Rachel carried the bench over and sat down, smoothing her shirt down over her baby bump. As she began playing some warm-ups on the piano and singing along with each note, she felt her baby girl kick – she made her own mental distinction that the little baby was kicking _happily_, but who was to say, really?

"Easy, Colby," Rachel kept playing the piano with her left hand and gently rubbed her tummy with her right. And then she smiled goofily. "Yes, I think that's the perfect name for you."

She resumed playing scales and arpeggios until she was satisfied. Then she opened her book to the most recently written-on page. Her pencil fell out of the book and onto the piano, and Rachel promptly picked it up and stuck it behind her ear. She began from the beginning of the song she was writing, working out the delicate melody note by note on the keys. Once she had played through it a couple of times – with pencil erasings and rewrites in between – she began the song once again; but this time, she sang the lyrics as well.

As the last chord rang out, Rachel's voice faded away. She had performed the song with as much heart as she possessed, and she was pleased with the results. Nevertheless, she immediately bent over the keys towards her notebook and began scribbling notes concerning the last verse…

Light applause resounded from out in the audience, and Rachel nervously turned around on her bench to address whoever had been listening to her play. "Who's there?" Rachel asked, squinting out towards the rows of seats.

Slowly, a figure began to materialize and, as Rachel's eyes adjusted to the brightness, she recognized the person's form as they ascended the stairs onto the stage.

Rachel smiled brightly. "Miss Holiday," she greeted with a smile, turning fully on the bench away from the piano to face the older woman.

"Hello Rachel," Miss Holiday said, smiling brightly at Rachel as well in greeting. "I'm _very_ impressed with that song you just sang. Is it by someone I might know?"

Rachel blushed. "Well, yes – I wrote it. For my girlfriend, actually."

Miss Holiday smiled conspiratorially. "Are you going to play it for her?"

"Soon, I hope," Rachel said while nodding slowly. "I want it to be perfect." Rachel paused for a moment while turning back and grabbing the notebook. She held the pages with the song open in front of her face contemplatively before saying, "You know, I think this could be performed as a compelling duet. Would you be interested in singing with me? You could sing the melody and I'll harmonize with you."

Miss Holiday grinned and said, "I thought you'd never ask," before sitting down next to Rachel on the bench.

After about half an hour of playing the song and singing and harmonizing, Miss Holiday announced that, sadly, she had to go. "I'll walk with you to the parking lot, ok?" Rachel nodded, bright smile firmly in place.

Just as they were about to push open the doors nearest the parking lot, Miss Holiday stopped and facepalmed. "Oh no!" she said. "I forgot my purse in Mrs. Carlisle's room." She reached out and placed a supportive hand on Rachel's shoulder. "But don't worry, Rachel. She's absolutely going to _love_ the song you wrote for her, or else my name isn't Holly Holiday!"

Rachel smiled and shook her head as Miss Holiday took off back down the hall towards Mrs. Carlisle's room. She pushed open the door and made her way to her car.

Her keys had apparently fallen into the deepest, darkest recesses of Rachel's backpack, so she was having difficulty locating them. She was still a good twenty or thirty feet from her car when she caught sight of movement in the corner of her eye. She looked up, and she completely lost the ability to breathe or move or think.

Russell Fabray was standing just over her shoulder. He must have come up behind her as she left the building.

And he was holding a gun in his hand.

Rachel turned to face him fully, putting her back to her car. She continued to back up slowly, trying to put as much distance between Quinn's father and herself as possible.

"Mr. Fabray," Rachel called. "You should put that down before someone gets hurt."

He took another step towards her and shouted, "_Stop moving!_" Rachel immediately halted her progress towards her car. He took another step before stopping completely. "If anyone is hurting _anyone_, it's _you_ hurting _my daughter_," he seethed. "How do you feel? Huh? How do you feel knowing that you're condemning her to a life in _**hell**_?" He was gesturing wildly with his arms, and the gun was flailing around dangerously.

"God is loving," Rachel said. "And He doesn't look down on us for loving each other. And you shouldn't either."

"_Don't you tell __**me**__ what I can and cannot do, girl!_" he shouted. "She is _mine_. And I will not let you corrupt her anymore."

He raised the gun and pointed it shakily at Rachel's figure – at her stomach. "Think about what you're doing!" she yelled, prepared to turn and run.

"I _have_," he said before bringing his left hand up to steady his right.

Suddenly, Rachel heard the light sounds of running feet, and she saw Miss Holiday running from the front of the school directly at Russell Fabray. She loudly shouted, "Oh _hell_ no! Not one of _my _students!" before tackling Russell to the ground.

But at the moment of impact – when Holly was ramming her body into Russell – he squeezed the trigger.

Rachel screamed and fell to the ground.

Miss Holiday had landed on top of Russell. She forcefully pressed her knees into his upper arms, successfully pinning them to the ground. Then she pulled her arm back and punched him – _hard_ – right across the face. He was out cold.

Moving quickly, she pried the gun from his fingers before getting up and running towards Rachel. She tossed the gun on the other side of Rachel – as far away from the unconscious man as possible – before reaching into her pocket and grabbing her cell phone. She dialed 911 before leaning over Rachel.

There was already blood _everywhere_. It was pouring from the girl in waves. The bullet had hit Rachel in her upper thigh. Miss Holiday didn't know much about human anatomy, but she knew that the amount of blood that Rachel was losing was _not_ good.

Miss Holiday quickly told the emergency operator where she was and what had happened. The operator informed her that the ambulance and police were on their way and that she needed to put as much pressure on Rachel's wound as possible. Miss Holiday hung up and tossed her phone to the side before pressing both of her hands on Rachel's leg and leaning on it heavily.

"Rachel," she called, trying to keep the terror out of her voice. "Rachel, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Rachel clenched her fists at her sides. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut. She could barely think enough to stay conscious, let alone to answer Miss Holiday. All she could do was moan in pain – excruciating pain.

"I know," Miss Holiday said. "I know, I'm so sorry. Just try to stay awake, Rachel. Stay awake. Listen to my voice. The paramedics are on their way. They're on their way, ok? They're going to be here soon and they're going to get you to the hospital and that bastard is going to rot in jail. They'll be here soon, I promise."

Rachel tried to nod. She may or may not have been successful – she couldn't tell. Her clenched fists began to loosen. Miss Holiday noted with alarming certainty that Rachel was incredibly pale.

"Just a little bit longer, Rachel. Listen," she said, hearing sirens in the distance. "That's them coming right now. It's going to be ok."

Rachel blinked – and it was almost impossible to force her eyes back open afterwards.

"Stay awake, Rachel!" Miss Holiday was yelling by now. "Remember? You have to sing your song for your girl. I know she's excited to hear it, Rachel. She'll be so proud of you!"

The ambulanced sped into the parking lot, closely followed by two police cars.

"Rachel," Miss Holiday said, her voice breaking on the first syllable of the girl's name. A pool of blood surrounded both of them. It was soaking through the knees of her jeans as she kneeled down, still trying to stop the flow of blood and life from the girl underneath her. "Help is here, Rachel."

There were only two words bouncing around inside the jumbled mess of Rachel's head: _Quinn. Colby._

And then the paramedics were standing over her and Miss Holiday was moving out of the way while telling them exactly what had happened and Rachel's body was screaming and her vision was fading and her heart was aching.

And then there was nothing.

_I did my best, it wasn't much,  
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch,  
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you.  
And even though,  
It all went wrong,  
I'll stand before the Lord of Song,  
With nothing on my tongue but '__Hallelujah__.'_


	36. Some Will Seek Forgiveness Others Escape

_A/N: Words can't express my thanks concerning the response to the last chapter. It meant a lot, every word. This chapter will be the last for a few days – I'll be going out of town (weather permitting). But I hope this brief stopping point doesn't dissatisfy._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

_Rachel glanced around confusedly. Her mind was racing a mile-a-minute… And yet, standing still at the same time. There was a fog surrounding her body – she couldn't even see two feet in front of her. As soon as Rachel thought, 'I wonder where I am,' the fog shifted and swirled and parted around her, pushing back its borders to reveal…_

_The football stadium?_

_Rachel held her hands out in front of her. She examined the backs of her fingers and then flipped them over to examine her palms. She touched her face and drug her hands down her body to examine her baby bump. She looked down at what she was wearing – a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt._

_She looked back out at the stadium around her. There were trees in the distance, and they were bare of leaves. She could see the branches moving from the unrelenting wind. It __**had**__ to be cold out here – and yet, Rachel wasn't._

_She placed her hands (palms down) on her thighs. She simply sat staring at them for a while. Time was passing, she was sure, but she couldn't really tell. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and she pushed it back behind her ear._

_Movement caught her eye. She looked up, and she saw a figure in white running towards her. Rachel stood. As the figure got closer, Rachel felt her heart soar. It was Quinn – the girl was wearing a stunningly bright white v-neck t-shirt with a pair of tight, dark blue jeans. Rachel licked her lips._

_Quinn stopped right in front of Rachel. Her hands were on her hips and a smile was on her lips and she was staring at Rachel with a look of love and adoration._

_Rachel wanted to say hi, but she found herself unable to speak._

"_The tables have turned on us this time, haven't they?" Quinn asked cryptically._

_Rachel found her words. "The tables have turned?"_

_Quinn giggled and stepped over the short rail that was separating the girls. She put her hands on the rail behind her back and leaned her butt against it. "You probably don't remember the last time you were here. Well," Quinn pondered. "It technically wasn't __**you**__, really. Just a projection of you in my subconscious. Or something," she waved her hand dismissively._

"_Quinn, are you –"_

"_Crazy?" Quinn interjected, shaking her head in mirth. "I thought the same thing about Dream Rachel when I was here."_

"_When were you here?" Rachel asked._

"_After my car accident. And you showed up here." She smiled as she reminisced and gestured around them. "You were very sweet – but also very mysterious, albeit, __**enlightening**__." Quinn emphasized the last word and Rachel was left with a confused look on her face._

"_I guess the next rational question is, where is __**here**__?"_

_Quinn's body shook with her laughter. Rachel thought it was adorable. Until she realized that Quinn was laughing __**at**__ her – then Rachel just got a stern look on her face, scowling at her girlfriend. "That's what I wanted to know as well." Quinn stopped laughing and instead just grinned at Rachel. "Again, you were very mysterious. The simple answer is – I haven't the slightest idea."_

"_So we're not in the McKinley High football stadium?" Rachel questioned._

_Quinn placed her finger to her lips, raising her eyebrows in a mockingly-contemplative gesture. "Hmmm," she said. "You could say that. You could also say that we are on the floor of the auditorium stage."_

"_But Quinn," Rachel began. "That would be –"_

_And then they were on the floor of the auditorium stage._

"_Silly?" Quinn questioned. "I know, right?"_

_Rachel sighed, a thoughtful frown beginning to form on her lips. This was thoroughly confusing. Was this an out-of-body experience? Or was she simply dead, with her mind playing cruel and unusual tricks on her?_

_Instead of voicing her concerns about her imminent demise (unless it had already occurred – in which case, did it really matter anyway?), Rachel said, "So what did I tell you when you were here before?"_

_Quinn smiled, and it was such a beautiful, innocent gesture that Rachel's heart nearly swelled to bursting. She reached forward to cup Quinn's face – but Quinn immediately began to disappear. Instantly, her hand snapped back to her lap._

"_Well," Quinn said. "First of all, you told me that it was a total bummer that we couldn't touch here."_

"_I did not say 'bummer,'" Rachel defended herself with a huff and the crossing of her arms._

"_Oh yes, yes you did. And then you said, 'Believe me, I really want to touch you, too. But that's not how things work here.' And that led to the discussion about where exactly 'here' is. And now, here we are."_

_Rachel placed her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. "I see," she said. Though really, she didn't. "What else did I say?"_

"_You said that I was going to be ok, that I was going to wake up soon," Quinn replied. Rachel felt like she should be crying, but she wasn't. "You basically told me that the Rachel outside of this reality – the Rachel in the real world – was someone I __**could**__ touch. And hug. And kiss. And __**be**__ with. And you told me not to waste anymore time. And then you ran offstage."_

_Rachel smiled. "I always tend to say the right things." She paused momentarily, contemplating Quinn's words. "You said that I told you when you would wake up."_

_Quinn's smile vanished. She nodded._

"_Are __**you**__ going to tell me when __**I**__ am going to wake up?" Rachel asked._

_Quinn was silent in response, ducking her head and avoiding Rachel's gaze._

"_Quinn," Rachel asked – her voice was authoritative, yet loving. "You can tell me. How long?"_

_Quinn looked up with a valiantly brave attempt at a smile on her face. "However long it takes, however long you are here – I promise I won't leave you alone."_

* * *

Shelby's hand shook as she lowered her cell phone from her face. She had been surprised when the number flashed across her screen – a Lima zip code followed by a number that she didn't recognize. And then Will Schuester's voice – the man she had made out with on his couch before finding out that he was _married_, the glee club director of her _daughter_ – rang in her ears and she had nearly panicked when she heard the words '_Rachel_' '_gun shot wound'_ and '_still in surgery_' resound through her eardrums.

She was confused and scared and unsure. She shakily stood to her feet and began moving about her apartment aimlessly. She picked up the coffee pot and looked into it. Empty. Sitting it back down, she meandered over to her sink and looked at the dirty dishes. They could wait. Making up her mind, she grabbed her coat from the hanger by the door, snatched up her keys, and headed to her car.

* * *

"Can I get an ice pack for my face?" Russell questioned the police officer who had just walked past his detainment cell.

"Fuck off," the officer replied.

Russell huffed and leaned back against the wall before turning his head to the side and spitting out a mouthful of blood.

* * *

After the three Cheerios had departed from the charter bus, Sue had the driver go to the high school where the rest of the girls were dropped off.

They had all stared solemnly at the blood-stained concrete and the police tape.

Sue had then performed a citizen's arrest of Judy Fabray and escorted her personally to the courthouse.

* * *

The waiting room of Lima General was subdued and morose. The entirety of New Directions was there – along with Rachel's grandparents (Brendon's parents) and Mr. Schuester. While everyone sitting in the waiting room was nervous, Quinn Fabray was completely beside herself.

Literally, she was sitting alone in the corner. Brittany and Santana had been taking turns trying to comfort her – to reassure her and promise her that everything would be ok. _Even though,_ Quinn thought with sadness, _they can't promise that. Not by a long shot_. But the girls had both required sustenance and had departed to the hospital's cafeteria to find something to eat, promising to bring something back for Quinn, asking her what she was hungry for. '_Don't bother_,' she had replied. '_I couldn't eat right now, even if I wanted to_.'

Quinn was in love with Rachel Berry – _she_ knew this, everyone at _school_ knew this, now (obviously) her _parents_ knew this. Quinn couldn't have denied this fact with a single fiber of her being, even if her life depended on it. It had become an inherent part of _who she was_, and there was no changing that. Her father – she was still calling him her '_father_' because she hadn't come up with a more appropriate term yet – had _shot_ both Rachel and Brendon. He had _shot them_ in _cold blood_. Quinn didn't need to hear his reasons or rationality behind his actions.

He was dead to her now.

And, yes – Quinn fully believed with all of her heart that this was her fault. But she also knew that the blame was to be shared with the insane man whose roof she had lived under for sixteen years of her life (yes, that was fitting). No sane person, no man of God, no _father_ would do what Russell Fabray had done. And while Quinn knew that it was because of her love for Rachel that the girl was currently on an operating table fighting for her life, she also knew that she was not responsible for Russell's actions.

So she sat. And she waited.

And she prayed. And the first time that Marcus had walked into the waiting room (hours ago, at this point), Quinn had immediately jumped out of her chair and run into his arms. He had hugged her, and Quinn had felt a sense of relief. But that sense of relief was extinguished as quickly as it had burst into being by his words. '_Brendon's condition is less serious than Rachel's. The bullet avoided any major arteries. He's still in surgery, but the outcome is looking good. I'm on the team working on Rachel right now… She,_' his voice had cracked and Quinn had squeezed his arm underneath her hand. '_She lost a __**lot**__ of blood. The bullet hit her in an area riddled with blood vessels and intricate muscle connections. She's only been in the O.R. for an hour or so, but it's going to be a long night.'_ He had sighed deeply and cupped Quinn's cheek._ 'And a lot of unnecessary stress has been put on the baby. Just stay strong, I promise that you will be the first to know everything as the night progresses._'

He had walked away, and Quinn had leaned her back against the nearest wall and immediately burst into tears. Brittany had quickly collected Quinn in a warm hug, murmuring words of comfort in her ear, but to no avail.

Until Rachel was safely out of the operating room and stable – until then, Quinn would be thinking and praying and hoping against hope and holding back her tears. Because Rachel had to make it.

She just had to.

* * *

"_Describe your perfect date," Rachel asked. The girls were lying side by side on their backs, still on the auditorium floor._

"_That's too easy," Quinn replied, tilting her head to her right to look at Rachel._

_Rachel turned to look at Quinn as well. "Then you shouldn't have a problem answering it." She winked._

"_I'd have to say," Quinn paused while contemplating her answer. "April 25__th__." Rachel looked at her puzzlingly, prepared to open her mouth and question Quinn's answer, but then Quinn continued. "Because it's not too hot, not too cold – all you need is a light jacket."_

_Quinn smiled at Rachel, but the other girl was sighing and turning back to stare up at the ceiling. "You're not fooling me, Quinn. I remember watching that movie with you."_

_Quinn chuckled lightly to herself before also turning her eyes upwards. "Fine, I'll be serious."_

* * *

A couple hours after Marcus had given Quinn the first update on Rachel's condition – before immediately heading back into surgery – a dark-haired woman walked into the waiting room. She looked around, seemingly a little lost, before she spotted Mr. Schuester and made a beeline for him. Quinn narrowed her eyes. That hair, that bone structure – it was all eerily familiar.

When Mr. Schuester saw the woman approaching him, he jumped up and said, "Shelby!" and Quinn knew. She knew who this woman was, and she was far from pleased.

However, Quinn didn't immediately do anything about it. It wouldn't have been wise to approach Rachel's mother for the first time with a reckless vendetta on her mind.

So she sat. And she waited.

* * *

"Shelby!" Will greeted her. Shelby instantly grabbed his hand and insisted that he tell her everything that he knew. Will informed her of the situation – that Rachel's dad had been shot and was in surgery, but that things seemed like they would be ok with him; and that Rachel was also still in surgery, but that things were still unsure. She had lost a lot of blood, he said. It was a very delicate operation, he said. It could be hours, he said.

Shaking, Shelby had sat down in a vacant chair, shedding her coat and depositing it in the seat next to her. She was trying to process it all, she really was. But all she could think was, _She never even called me_. Surely Rachel had read the letter – surely her daughter had realized that she wanted to step across the boundary of sixteen years that separated them – surely Rachel would naturally want to do the same.

Right?

But Rachel hadn't called. And Shelby had waited. And now Rachel was hurt – she was hurt and things were scary right now, and Shelby couldn't do anything. She felt more helpless than she had perhaps ever felt in her entire life. She had control when she gave Rachel to the Berry men. At the end of the day, it was her choice to do what she did. But now? She couldn't control this helpless feeling. There was nothing she could do.

Or maybe… Maybe there _was _something that she could do.

* * *

_The girls were now sitting on a park bench. There were no other people around, but behind them was the evening skyline of New York City. In front of them, a jungle gym._

"_I picked a name," Rachel said quietly. Her left hand was on the bench between her and her girlfriend. Quinn's hand was less than an inch away from hers. The air in between their fingers shimmered._

"_Tell me." It wasn't a demand, really. Just a statement. Quinn knew Rachel would tell her in the end._

_Rachel smiled and glanced down at her lap before tilting her head and looking at Quinn from the corner of her eye. "Colby," Rachel said, prepared to judge Quinn's reaction._

_Quinn's eyes slowly closed and she took a deep breath before biting her lip. She exhaled slowly through her nose before turning fully to face Rachel. "Beautiful," she said._

_Rachel smiled – she wanted to lean forward and kiss Quinn, but the limitations of this place wouldn't allow her to do that. So she settled for smiling. "I thought so, too."_

_Quinn threw her head back and laughed, and Rachel thought she had never seen anything more perfect. "And that's always been my favorite type of cheese," Quinn said with all seriousness. Rachel huffed.

* * *

_

Quinn's eyes narrowed further (if that was possible) as she saw Shelby reach out and pick up her coat before standing and walking away from Mr. Schuester. Immediately, she stood to follow.

As Shelby rounded the corner, Quinn caught up with her. She reached out and grabbed the older woman's arm to stop her. Shelby spun around and took in Quinn's appearance, recognizing this girl as the one who had kissed her daughter at Sectionals.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Where are you going?" Quinn answered with her own question.

"Just to the bathroom," Shelby replied after a slight hesitation.

"You need your coat to do that?" Shelby opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to respond. "Why are you running away?" Quinn demanded, now furious that Shelby had been incapable of refuting her when Quinn had called her out. When Shelby didn't answer, Quinn supplied one for her. "You're scared."

"I really wanted this to work," Shelby said, tears filling her eyes. "But it's too late for us. Anything that I share with Rachel right now is going to be too confusing for her. I'm just her mother – I'm not her _mom_." She turned and started to walk away.

"You're saying good-bye before even giving her a chance to say hello," Quinn directed the comment towards Shelby's back. The woman paused in her step momentarily, her head slightly cocked to the side – but in the end, she walked away.

Quinn walked back to her chair.

And she sat. And she waited.

* * *

"_I love your smile," Rachel said._

"_I love your voice," Quinn countered._

_The ocean breeze blew Rachel's hair into her face – even though she couldn't __**actually**__ feel the wind at all. The soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore resounded in her ears._

"_I love your eyes."_

"_I love your hair."_

_Rachel traced her finger through the sand in front of where she sat cross-legged. Quinn was sitting in front of her, mimicking her position. They played tic-tac-toe. It was a draw._

"_I love your hands," Rachel said quietly._

"_I love your ass."_

_Rachel gasped. "Quinn!"_

"_It's true," Quinn giggled._

"_Fine," Rachel huffed, continuing with their game. "I love your legs."_

"_I love __**your**__ legs," Quinn said. "But seriously, for someone so short, your legs are __**really**__ long."_

_This time, Rachel was the one to giggle. "I love your intelligence."_

"_I love your heart."_

_Both girls were silent for a few moments. "It's yours, you know," Rachel said._

_Quinn smiled. "I know."

* * *

_

Holly Holiday had been detained at the police office for several hours. She had been asked to give her statement about the events that took place at WMHS – which she had been glad to do, of course – but she was now anxious to make her way to the hospital and check on Rachel. She had learned from the police that Rachel's father had also been shot. It was a tragedy – or, well, it had the potential to be truly tragic. She hoped that both Rachel and her father were ok.

She pulled into an empty parking spot in a lot near the east entrance to the hospital. As she got out of her car, she noticed that there was a woman sitting in the car next to hers. She was crying – but she wasn't moving. The tears were simply flowing freely down her cheeks, unimpeded by a hand or a tissue.

It only took Holly a fraction of a second to make up her mind. She tapped on the woman's window. Startled, the woman looked up at her before rolling down her window. "Yes?" she asked.

"Hi," Holly replied. "I couldn't help noticing that something seemed to be wrong. Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. But there's nothing I can do about it now."

"I find that hard to believe. There's always _something_ you can do," Holly said.

"Tell that to my daughter – whose life is hanging in the balance on an operating table."

Holly was surprised to hear that this woman was assumedly Rachel's mother, but she didn't let it show. She knew Rachel had two gay dads – in fact, she had applied to be their surrogate. She wasn't upset that they hadn't chosen her – not by any means. She knew that it was a huge decision, not something that should be taken lightly, certainly. But there was something fascinating about seeing the woman that they _did_ choose sitting out here like this – looking so terribly _lost_ that Holly could practically feel it radiating across the space between them.

"I tell you what," Holly said. "I think you and I both know that you need to be in that hospital right now – supporting your daughter whether or not she is conscious to know it. But you look like you could use a drink. How about I take you for some coffee down the street? And then we'll come back as soon as we can."

"They said it could be hours longer," Shelby softly replied.

"Then we'll drink two coffees. And we can bring coffee back for anyone else who's waiting on your daughter. Does that sound ok?"

Still looking very much like a lost puppy, Shelby simply replied, "My name is Shelby."

Holly stuck her hand in the open window. "Holly Holiday. Nice to meet you."

Shelby shook the offered hand and bit her lip. "Would you mind terribly if you drove? I'm not sure I'm fit for it right now."

Smiling sweetly in the open window, Holly nodded. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Holly and Shelby walked into the waiting room with two dozen coffees of various flavors and types. Quinn's eyebrows rose sharply, and when Shelby's eyes connected with her own, she just nodded her head. Shelby nodded back.

And still they sat. And still they waited.

Night had fallen heavily before Marcus next appeared in the waiting room. Several people around the room stood, but Marcus immediately went to Brendon's parents.

"He's going to be ok," he said while holding his mother-in-law's hand firmly in his own. "He's in recovery right now. In an hour or so, you can go check on him." He paused and ducked his head. "He doesn't know anything about Rachel yet. So we can't spring that on him right now." The woman nodded solemnly, her husband's hand squeezing her shoulder lovingly.

Marcus stood and approached Quinn next. The other members of the glee club – plus Mr. Schuester, Shelby (whose presence Marcus did not take note of), and Holly – all listened intently as he talked to the blonde. "She's still in surgery. But we believe that we've been able to repair ninety percent of the damage. There will be at least one more surgery after this one, but she's stable. They're wrapping up right now. The baby is fine, but Rachel's doctor is running some extra tests just to be sure." Quinn was crying silently by now, squeezing Marcus's hand in her own. "It's not going to be easy, and we're not sure what kind of permanent damage Rachel will have to deal with." Quinn squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to imagine a Rachel incapable of dancing across the Broadway stage. "I'll let you know more when I can."

He dropped her hand and prepared to turn away, but Quinn quickly threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and squeezing for all she was worth. "You're so brave," she whispered in his ear. "And you've been so strong for both of them." By now, Marcus was hugging her back. "You're like a father to me, and I can't thank you enough for that."

Pulling away, Quinn caught sight of tears swimming in Marcus's eyes as well. He nodded once – his silence and his piercing gaze enough to tell Quinn that he was moved beyond words – before turning and walking back towards the operating room. He wiped his eyes as he rounded the corner.

When Quinn turned around, Santana and Brittany were there a few feet behind her. She stepped forward and opened her arms, and they both immediately grabbed her up into a fierce hug of support and love. "She's going to make it," Quinn whispered fiercely into Brittany's hair. "She's going to make it."

But still… They sat. And they waited.

* * *

_Rachel yawned. And then she blinked and found herself and Quinn in her bedroom. Standing in the middle of the floor, Rachel looked around._

"_Why are we here?" she asked._

_Quinn smiled and said, "We're running out of time." Rachel's eyes snapped to Quinn's, the unspoken question just beneath the surface. "Yes, you'll be waking up soon. And the me that is out there? She'll be waiting for you when you do." Rachel's smile could have lit up the night. "I can't lie and tell you that it's going to be easy –" Rachel's smile faltered "– but she's not going to leave your side. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes," Rachel replied._

"_Time to rest," Quinn said, pointing at Rachel's bed. Rachel moved forward, pulling back the covers and preparing to slide underneath. She looked back towards where Quinn had been standing before, but the girl was gone. Rachel's eyes flitted instantly to the door – Quinn was standing inside the open doorway, her hand on the doorknob, ready to close it behind her. Rachel opened her mouth to speak. "This is good-bye for us, Rach. But it's not the end. Not by a long shot."_

_As the door closed, Rachel felt calm. She smiled. Climbing beneath the sheets, she felt blackness engulfing her vision. She closed her eyes and fell into a peaceful rest._


	37. You Be The Anchor

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

_Quinn stands at the front of the church. She's nervously wringing her hands behind her back, wondering why her palms decided to get sweaty on __**this day**__, of all days._

_Beautiful piano music is echoing all around her. Her friends are sitting out in the pews, chatting amongst themselves while Quinn stands alone, nervously fidgeting and shifting her weight from foot to foot in an antsy dance of anticipation. Suddenly, a soft voice speaks from behind her._

"_You seem awfully nervous, Q."_

_Quinn turned her head slightly over her shoulder to look at her guest. "Santana," she sighed out, turning fully to face one of her best friends in the entire world._

_Santana gave her a bright smile. Her face was soft and beautiful, her make-up was light, and her hair was delicately framing her face. She was the perfect Best Man. "Hey," Santana said, brow furrowing ever so slightly when she saw Quinn's eyes becoming watery. "What's wrong, sweetheart? You've been looking forward to this day for so long."_

_Quinn bit her lip and nodded, trying to suppress her overly-emotional reaction. "I know, I know. You're absolutely right. I'm excited," she beamed, her teeth showing brilliantly in a smile – a smile that conveyed her true excitement, hidden beneath her nervous anticipation._

_Santana laughed. "I know you're excited, Q. She'll be out soon. I'll go double-check with Brittany to see what the holdup is, ok?"_

_Quinn simply nodded in response, reaching out and grasping Santana's hand briefly in her own – and reveling in the slight squeeze of reassurance that the other girl gave her – before Santana was moving off down the aisle and through the large doors at the entrance to the room. The sound of the door clicking into place finally broke Quinn's gaze – she blinked and turned to look around at everyone gathered on her side of the church._

_And suddenly, her father was standing right in front of her._

"_Daddy," Quinn said, smiling shyly._

"_My Quinnie," he said with a proud, adoring smile on his face. "Such a big day for you."_

_Quinn blushed and ducked her head to her chest. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it really is." Looking back up at her father, she smiled through her eyelashes._

"_I love you," Russell said. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."_

"_I know, Daddy. That's what you've said since I was a little girl."_

_And then the doors at the entrance to the church swung open. The piano stopped playing its light, lilting melody and instead switched to an appropriate tune for the bridesmaids to walk down the aisle. Colby dropped rose petals in front of her as she approached Quinn at the alter – smiling brightly all the while – accompanied by a cute little boy carrying the rings. Quinn kissed Colby lightly on the forehead as the girl stood expectantly at her side. Quinn smiled at Tina and Artie as they made their way towards the alter. They were followed by Kurt and Mercedes. And then there was Brittany, her hand lightly clutching at Santana's elbow._

_The piano stopped entirely before the bridal march started. Everyone stood. Quinn felt her heart stop._

_Rachel walked around the corner, each of her hands gripping the arms of her fathers on either side of her. Quinn's heart started back up, racing a thousand miles a minute._

_As Rachel got closer, her eyes locked with Quinn's. The brunette smiled brightly – with her entire face and her entire heart and her entire __**being**__ – and Quinn returned the smile, just as brightly. She felt herself breaking apart at the sheer beauty walking down the aisle towards her. She had managed not to cry – until now._

_Suddenly, Russell was standing directly behind her shoulder. He was whispering in her ear, and it was a voice that shook Quinn to her very core. It was cold and harsh and malicious. It was evil. "I will do whatever it takes to save your soul."_

_And before Quinn could even turn around to look her father in the eye, he was stepping around her and raising a gun. He was pointing it at Quinn's girlfriend, her fiancée, her future wife._

_Quinn had time to register the shocked expression on Rachel's face before a gunshot rang out._

_Running down the aisle, Quinn almost tripped over her heels. She fell to her knees at Rachel's side. Blood was blossoming against the white fabric of Rachel's elegantly stunning dress. The bodice now looked as if it had purposefully been dyed in wine. But it was Rachel's blood – it was Rachel's life – soaking through and staining it._

_And then Quinn's hands were gently cupping Rachel's face. And she was telling her to stay strong, to hold on, to not give up, to not leave her. Colby ran up and touched Rachel's hair, confusion glinting strongly in her eyes as she stared up into Quinn's face._

_Rachel's eyes fluttered open – an action that would normally make Quinn swoon instead caused her to cry – and she attempted to latch onto one of Quinn's hands with one of her own. Quinn grabbed onto Rachel's searching hand and placed it on her cheek. "Rachel," she gasped out. "Baby," she said. "Just hold on."_

"_I am holding on," Rachel gasped out._

"_Keep holding on," Quinn said._

"_I'm trying," Rachel breathed._

_And then she blinked once, twice – her eyes didn't open again. And Quinn screamed.

* * *

_

Quinn woke in the uncomfortable hospital chair – the shocking feeling of _falling_ had woken her. She remembered her dream in vivid clarity in those moments after her nightmare – those moments when she found herself clutching at the chair's armrests and attempting to calm her erratic heartbeat and control her labored breaths. But as the second hands on the clock opposite her continued ticking, round and round, she found that it was already fading.

_Let it fade_, she thought. _Just let it fade…_

It was late in the evening – _no, _Quinn mentally corrected herself, squinting again at the clock. _It's well into the morning at this point_. She was alone in Rachel's hospital room. It was a private room, one that Rachel had been moved to after her mandatory two hours in the recovery ward of the hospital. She was stable, they had said. Marcus had patted Quinn lovingly on the shoulder, squeezing once. He had been here, in this room, before Quinn had fallen asleep. _But,_ Quinn noted while looking at the clock, _that was hours ago_. She stood, stretching her arms above her head, before reaching behind her and scooting the chair right up against Rachel's bed.

She resumed sitting in her chair, staring at her girlfriend. Rachel's skin was pale. Her tiny hands were resting on top of the blanket that was covering her. Quinn wondered if she was comfortable. Her hair was splayed out on the pillow underneath her head. Quinn saw a stray lock dangling against Rachel's cheek – she brushed it back with her fingers, afraid that it was tickling the other girl, even in her sleep. She just looked so fragile and _small_.

Quinn begrudgingly tore her eyes away from Rachel's face. She reached out with both of her hands and reverently grasped one of Rachel's between her own. She kissed each of Rachel's knuckles, brushing her lips against every inch of skin that she could.

She didn't know she was crying until the tears were dropping down onto the hospital bed beneath her.

One of Rachel's fingers twitched underneath Quinn's, and her eyes immediately sought out Rachel's face. "Rach?" she whispered quietly. She was met with a slight squeeze to her hand, the shifting of Rachel's head a few centimeters. "Baby?" Quinn questioned again.

Rachel's lips parted slightly, a moan escaping her throat. As consciousness began to sweep across her, it was followed closely by the unmistakable lances of pain from somewhere below her waist. She felt like she was on fire as she became more and more aware of her senses. But as she became more aware, she also realized that she wasn't alone.

Quinn nearly cried out in relief when she felt the unmistakably purposeful gripping of her fingers at Rachel's side. Well, she _did_ cry out – there was no _nearly_ about it. "Rach," Quinn attempted to muffle her voice so as to not startle her girlfriend. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're awake."

Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to rid her throat of desert-like dryness. "Getting there," she croaked out.

Immediately, Quinn released Rachel's hand and ran around to the other side of the bed, pouring some cool water into a small Styrofoam cup. _Hopefully she won't notice it's Styrofoam_, Quinn thought. _She'll be absolutely appalled._

"Here's some water," Quinn said. "Can you drink?"

Rachel nodded her head slightly. Quinn reached forward, cupping one hand gently around the back of Rachel's head and pressing the cup lightly to the girl's lips. Rachel sipped the proffered water, reveling in the soothing coolness as it slid down her throat. As Quinn lowered the half-empty cup back down onto her bedside table, Rachel let out a sigh. She swallowed a couple of times while Quinn walked back around to her chair on the other side of the bed, sitting down and grasping Rachel's hand again.

Finally, Rachel spoke – and her voice was almost as clear as it was on any other day. "I can't believe you let me drink out of a Styrofoam cup," she said. Quinn bit her lip, trying to control a laugh that would have been full of relief and coated with sadness. "That cup isn't biodegradable, you know. It'll be around long after you and I are gone."

Quinn stood up and leaned over the railing, placing a soft, lingering kiss against Rachel's forehead. She cupped Rachel's cheek in her palm. "Which is going to be a long time from now," Quinn said. "Hi," she added, a shy smile on her lips.

Pulling back, Quinn looked into the startling pools of brown that were Rachel's eyes – she hadn't realized just how much she had missed those eyes. "Hi back," Rachel replied. "Why are you crying?"

"Am I?" Quinn wiped at her cheeks, looking down at her moist fingertips. "I am…"

"Yes," Rachel said. "You are. And I'd very much appreciate you being less sad."

"Rach…" Quinn trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts. _You almost died!_ she wanted to scream. _You almost bled out in our high school parking lot! You were in surgery for __**hours**__! My __**father**__ did this to you… My father! _But she didn't say it. She didn't say any of it. She couldn't.

But Rachel had always been special. Rachel had always been able to look into Quinn's eyes and pick apart her thoughts. It was cliché. And it was sometimes annoying. And she did it now, and Quinn felt like running away. But, of course, she couldn't do that – not really.

"Quinn, it's not your fault."

Quinn didn't respond. She only ducked her head down against her chest, covering her eyes with one of her hands.

"Quinn," Rachel reiterated. "It's not your fault." An emphasis on every word.

Quinn nodded but still refused to lower her hand. Rachel attempted to reach up with her own hand, leaning forward slightly in the process. This action resulted in her crying out in pain and dropping her hands – now clenched into tight fists – back down by her sides.

"Oh geez," Rachel hissed out between her tightly clamped teeth. She moaned as the pain that had initially grown and then faded as her consciousness surfaced now attacked her senses again in full force.

Quinn immediately felt guilty, reaching forward to press the button for the nurses' station and wishing that Marcus was here to help Rachel. After the button had been pushed, Quinn cupped Rachel's face in her hands, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and trying to help her get through the pain she had experienced while unknowingly attempting to move her severely damaged limb.

Finally – after the nurse had come and given Rachel a hefty dose of pain medication – Rachel had mumbled, "Well, she said it wasn't going to be easy…" under her breath. Quinn had raised an eyebrow, but hadn't questioned her about it.

As the nurse was walking out of the room, Quinn asked, "Is Marcus around?"

"Yes, he's in room 206" the nurse had replied, turning to face both of the girls. "With his husband."

"Thank you," Quinn had said, turning back to Rachel as the nurse left. "I'm glad you got some pain medication, I can't even imagine…" Quinn sighed. "You'll probably fall asleep soon. From what I remember, it's pretty heavy stuff."

But Rachel was gazing at Quinn now, directly into her eyes. And Quinn was beginning to feel more than a little unsettled about the situation. "Rach?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

Rachel opened and closed her mouth once before steeling her resolve and asking, "Why is Daddy in room 206?"

Quinn tried to hide her slight flinch at Rachel's question, but she failed miserably.

"Quinn." With one word – with one syllable filled with fear and the need to know and the potential for heartbreak – Quinn fell apart. She started bawling like a toddler, unable to control her breathing as her body was wracked with sobs.

"My dad shot your dad too, Rachel," Quinn cried out. "He's ok. Brendon's ok. But he shot him…" Quinn trailed off, unable to continue. She was choking on her guilt, unable to swallow past the lump in her throat. She was scared to look at her girlfriend – she was afraid of the rejection she knew would be swimming in Rachel's eyes.

"Quinn." And again – like her voice had some magical pull that Quinn couldn't fight – Quinn was looking at Rachel. She was looking at Rachel and wondering how on earth – when the girl had been shot and had been in surgery for _hours_ and hadn't brushed her hair or fixed her make-up – she could look like such a goddess. Quinn's breath was literally taken away. And there was no rejection in her eyes. There was just love. "Come here," Rachel said gently, patting the bed on her right side – her uninjured side.

Quinn walked around the side of the bed and crawled underneath the covers. Ever so gently, she wrapped her arms around Rachel, resting her head in the crook of her girlfriend's shoulder as Rachel wrapped her right arm around her. "You're comfortable," Quinn mumbled against the fabric of Rachel's hospital gown.

Rachel grinned against Quinn's hair. The medication was beginning to work its magic, and Rachel was feeling more than just a little drowsy. "Quinn," she began. "You can't feel bad about what your father did. I'm ok." She paused. "My Daddy is ok." Quinn gently caressed Rachel's baby bump. "Colby is ok," Rachel breathed out into the air between them.

Quinn looked up questioningly at Rachel. "Colby?" she asked. Rachel nodded. Quinn smiled brilliantly, settling her head back down on Rachel's shoulder. "Then yes, _Colby_ is ok."

A few moments passed in silence. "Rach?" Quinn questioned. When she didn't get any answer, Quinn raised her head. Rachel's eyes were shut, and her breathing was evening out. She lightly brushed her fingertips over Rachel's cheek, her nose, her lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "Good night."

And together, they slept. There were no dreams, but there were no nightmares either.


	38. I'll Be The Wings

_A/N: (1) – I know nothing about ballet. (2) – I know nothing about physical therapy. (3) - Please don't hold 1&2 against me while you're reading this if you know anything about either of these subjects._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

_Rachel's tiny fingers intricately – and tightly – laced up her pointe shoes. Once they were properly attached to her feet, she stuck her legs out in front of her. Flex, point. Flex, point. She stretched, laying her chest flat against her thighs, head between her knees, fingers reaching to touch her extended toes._

_She stood and faced the mirror in the girls' dressing room. Alone now, Rachel held her arms in front of her, heels touching. First position. She spread her legs slightly, second position. Then third position. The fourth. Then fifth. Then first, second, third, fourth, fifth. Then first –_

"_Rachel!"_

_She faltered, halting her actions. "Yes, Miss Sherry?"_

"_It's time! You don't want to miss the opening number!" Miss Sherry yelled through the open door. She always yelled. And she always managed to sound enthusiastic – not degrading or overpowering or __**scary**__. Just, passionate._

"_Yes, Miss Sherry." This time, Rachel's words were a statement instead of a question. She turned back to the mirror. Her hair was pulled back tightly. Her dance outfit – a black leo and white tutu – were pristine. This was normal. This was Rachel, Rachel in her Ballet Zone (as her dads so affectionately referred to nights such as this)._

_Rachel smiled at the thought of her dads. She really loved them._

_This was her 6__th__ Annual Dance Recital with Sherry's studio. Rachel had been learning from the woman since she was six years old. Now, she was twelve. And tonight, Rachel was a featured soloist._

_She cleared her face of emotion, she cleared her mind of excess thoughts. She schooled her features and entered again into first position before arching up and onto her toes. She maneuvered her feet, her toes, her ankles, her legs – her entire body went into keeping herself in the same spot on the floor._

"_Rachel!"_

_Gracefully, Rachel planted her feet again, now in fifth position – her head was tilted back over her left shoulder, and her arms were raised above her head, delicately arched. Slowly, she relaxed her body and straightened her head. "Coming," she quietly whispered under her breath. She smiled brightly at herself in the mirror – her gold-star smile – and then turned and ran out of the dressing room._

_Tonight… Tonight was her night.

* * *

_

Rachel was _beyond_ frustrated. "Another surgery?" she exclaimed.

Marcus nodded his head solemnly. It had been three days since Rachel's first surgery, but they were bound and determined to correct any and all damage that had been inflicted as quickly as possible – the success of Rachel's recovery rested heavily on it. "It has to be done, sweetie." Brendon was sitting in a chair next to Rachel's bed. His injured arm was resting in a sling, but he held onto one of Rachel's hands tightly with his other hand. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. She didn't return it.

Instead, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to control her breathing. She didn't want to cry, she really didn't. But she couldn't control the fact that she was _scared_. And she knew that her dads would only do what was best for her – it was what they _did_, what they had _always_ done. But there was something about this moment – something about the fact that Quinn wasn't here and that it felt like they were just _springing_ this news on her like it was nothing – that didn't sit right in her stomach. And Rachel also resented the fact that she felt in that moment _so_ reliant upon Quinn. Because really, it shouldn't have made a difference whether or not Quinn was there when her Dad told her she needed another surgery – she was going to find out anyway. She was going to have the surgery regardless.

But she still felt lost. And that didn't help with her current predicament.

"When?" Rachel asked. Her dads breathed a collective sigh of relief – she wasn't going to fight them anymore.

"As soon as we can," Marcus replied. He steeled himself for his next words – he knew they would be ill-received. "This afternoon, if at all possible."

"This afternoon?" As soon as the words left Rachel's lips, she knew how she had sounded. Like a child. Like a spoiled diva. But wasn't that who she had been for years? Old habits… "I'm sorry," she sighed. "It just seems so sudden." Taking a deep breath, Rachel said, "Ok. Let's do it. As soon as possible."

Marcus nodded, leaning over to kiss his daughter on the forehead. He and Brendon both headed towards the door, prepared to eat some lunch at the hospital's cafeteria – and Marcus had an operating room to book and plans to make.

As they were leaving, Rachel called out to them, "But nothing happens before Quinn gets here."

* * *

"_Sherry's studio is the best in town," Brendon had explained to Marcus. They were sitting at their kitchen table, pouring over bills and flyers and various pamphlets. "And you know we can afford to take Rachel there. She's our little girl, doesn't she deserve the best?"_

"_Yes, yes of course!" Marcus had replied. "But… Don't you think she's a little… young?"_

_Brendon's mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. "Too young?"_

"_Yes, dear. A little young. She's barely two."_

"_But she can walk."_

"_Yes, I understand that she can walk. That doesn't instantly qualify her for dance lessons." Brendon 'hmmph'd from across the table, crossing his arms defiantly. "Lord, I hope she doesn't inherit your love of dramatics," Marcus muttered._

"_I resent that," Brendon said, pouting out his lower lip._

_Marcus couldn't help but chuckle at his utterly adorable husband. "Fine," he said. "A compromise?"_

_Brendon tried not to look __**too**__ eager to agree. "What might this compromise entail?" he asked with narrowed eyes._

"_Dance lessons. But not for a few more years." Brendon opened his mouth to argue. "And –" Marcus cut him off "– we let Rachel decide when she's ready. And whether or not she actually __**wants**__ to try ballet."_

"_Well, naturally, ballet won't be the __**only**__ form of dance she studies. Sherry has programs for…" And then Brendon trailed off, because Marcus's eyes were entirely filled with mirth. "Why do I feel like you're mocking me in your head?"_

"_Probably because I am."_

"_Well," Brendon huffed. Again. "You can't even pretend like she's not going to want to pursue dance – she hardly even __**blinks**__ when we're watching 'Funny Girl.' And if she's going to be a performer, then she's going to be a __**performer**__, am I right?"_

_Marcus chuckled. "You're right, honey. You're right." Brendon puffed out his chest and crossed his arms again – though this time, it was in satisfaction. "When she's old enough," Marcus clarified. Brendon visibly deflated.

* * *

_

Quinn pulled into the hospital parking lot. She hadn't wanted to go to school – she hadn't wanted to leave Rachel. Alas, it was a necessity. She had used her time trapped in the public educational system wisely – gathering all of Rachel's missed homework and her books and had already enlisted the help of Santana and Artie and Tina to tutor Rachel in each of her various classes. Quinn could cover calculus. Santana was on the schedule for the English class she shared with Rachel. Artie had chemistry. And Tina was a biology wiz.

Carrying her doubly-heavy load of school supplies into the hospital, Quinn was glad to escape the biting wind. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was slightly disheveled as she walked into Rachel's room. Placing the stack of books to the side and depositing her backpack by the door, Quinn leaned over her napping girlfriend and brushed her lips against the girl's forehead. Rachel's eyelids fluttered open as Quinn sat halfway on the bed, her body angled out and her feet dangling down to the ground.

"Hi there, sleepyhead," Quinn greeted.

"Quinn!" Rachel said in return, reaching out to pull Quinn down for a proper kiss.

"I missed you today," Quinn murmured against Rachel's lips.

"You have no idea," Rachel meekly replied. Quinn leaned back to better look at the girl in front of her, and Rachel sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?"

Another sigh. "I have to have another surgery. And they're wanting to do it like, _now_. Today, basically."

Quinn only nodded. Rachel was put off by her nonchalance. "Oh, yeah. Your dad mentioned something about that after your first surgery, while I was waiting to get to see you."

Rachel's jaw dropped momentarily, but then she snapped it shut and crossed her arms haughtily over her chest. "And you're just now deciding to fill me in on this?"

Quinn's eyebrows rose – she was more than a little taken aback by Rachel's stance and obvious annoyance. "Well… Marcus said something about making sure your leg was _completely_ repaired. You don't want anything left undone down there, do you? It's for the best." Rachel continued to glare. "Rach," Quinn implored softly. "Baby, it's just something that has to be done."

Rachel deflated, her hands falling limply back down to rest on her blanket-covered lap. "I know," she sighed. "But surgery is scary."

Nodding again, Quinn replied, "I know. But I'll be here when you get out, ok?"

Rachel smiled sadly. "I know."

* * *

"_She's quite the little diva, isn't she?" Miss Sherry whispered conspiratorially to Brendon. Even though she was 'whispering,' her voice still carried quite easily. She was a rather loud, boisterous woman._

_Brendon chuckled. "I'm sure you say that to all of the girls' parents."_

_Sherry laughed – a full-on laugh where she tilted her head back, and the laughter literally echoed off of the ceiling. "You're right," she said, clutching Brendon's elbow between her fingers. "I do, I __**really do**__ say that quite often. But your Rachel – she's different. She's special. I can feel it."_

_Brendon looked at his little girl. She had turned six just last week, and she had approached Brendon and Marcus one evening before dinner. They were in the kitchen preparing the meal when Rachel – hands planted firmly on her hips – had said, 'I am ready to begin my journey into the world of dance.' And that had done it, really. There wasn't any arguing with that. And now Brendon watched as Rachel moved through her positions – First, second, third, fourth, fifth._

"_She's a natural!" Miss Sherry said._

_Brendon didn't even bother tearing his eyes away from his beautiful little girl. He just replied, "Yes, she is, isn't she? She's going to be a star someday."

* * *

_

Rachel had yet to voice her biggest fear. She saw it in her Daddy's eyes when they were sitting across from each other at the dining room table. She saw the unspoken worries in Quinn's eyes as well – but the girl was a professional at keeping that worry from her voice. It had been a few days since Rachel's second – and _final_ (as she had forced her Dad to assure her _numerous_ times) – surgery, and Rachel was due to start physical therapy the next day.

"The physical therapist who's going to be working with you is a great guy. His name is Jackson. You'll love him."

"We'll see about that," Rachel grumbled under her breath, poking some peas around on her plate. Under the table, she felt Quinn's fingers glide across her thigh – the only healthy, unharmed, fully-functioning thigh left on her body – and Rachel looked up to catch her eyes. This time – instead of worry or nervousness or fear for Rachel's well-being – Rachel saw love and comfort and _strength_. '_It'll be ok_,' Quinn mouthed. '_Maybe he's a cutie_.' Rachel giggled and both of the girls returned their gazes to their peas so that Marcus and Brendon wouldn't question their behavior.

The next day, it turned out that Quinn had been right – Jackson was very, _very_ cute. It definitely took away some of the emotional sting. But Rachel soon found out the hard way that it did nothing to alleviate the physical _torture_ that she was going through.

Only a couple of minutes into her first exercise, she was panting heavily and blinking furiously to rid her eyes of tears. "Hold on," she gasped out.

"Ok, no worries," Jackson said, placing a stool directly under Rachel so that she could sit down momentarily. He leaned against the bar that was between them. "But part of your recovery process is going to be working through the pain. You will have to push yourself most days. There's a fine line between 'not enough' and 'too much' and we're going to tread it constantly."

"Sounds like fun," Rachel breathed out.

* * *

_For eight months, Rachel had been taking lessons with a group of girls her age at Miss Sherry's studio. Tonight was the night of her first ever dance recital. Rachel tightened her bun and smoothed back the hair on the top of her head. She had some flyaways, so she reached for her hairspray to smooth them down. While she finished beautifying herself, she bounced excitedly on her toes._

_She really, __**really**__ liked to dance. The only thing she enjoyed as much as dancing was singing. Singing was fun. And everyone would always stop and listen to her when she sang. But dancing was different. When Rachel danced, she didn't look around and make sure everyone was watching her – because she __**knew**__ they were watching her. Because she would be having so much fun, how could they not want to watch?_

"_Rachel!" Miss Sherry yelled._

"_Yes, Miss Sherry?"_

"_Come on, dear! Get in line! It's your group's turn up next!"_

"_Yes, Miss Sherry," Rachel replied, bouncing over to stand in line with the other girls in her age group._

_When they filed onto the stage – each of them poised identically with their hands daintily resting at their sides, footsteps perfectly in sync – they were met with applause._

_Rachel knew what applause was like, sure. She had applauded after she had watched 'The Lion King' with her dads when the show was on tour and they had traveled to see it in Cincinnati. She had applauded when the Lima Theatre Guild had put on a production of 'Grease.' She had even politely applauded after watching the Guild's production the following year of 'Les Mis' even though she hadn't the slightest idea what was going on._

_But this feeling – the feeling of being on stage and finishing her musical number and curtseying and having people applaud for __**her**__? It was unlike anything Rachel had ever experienced before in her life. The other girls around her were scurrying off the stage so that the next group of girls could come out to perform, but Rachel was captivated – she blinked up into the bright stage lights and looked in the general direction of the balcony. She curtseyed again – this time, as the lone dancer on stage._

"_Rachel!" she heard. It was Miss Sherry, waving frantically at her from offstage-right. "Come here!" she hissed._

_Rachel gracefully ran off the stage and towards Miss Sherry, blowing kisses to the audience as she went.

* * *

_

It was a few weeks into Rachel's physical therapy. She had fallen into a schedule driven by passion and conviction (and coffee) and the tireless determination to succeed. She had begun to attend classes regularly again – though she got around initially in a wheelchair (which all of the glee club kids were leery of, seeing as how Rachel was one of the _worst_ wheelchair drivers when they were practicing for 'Proud Mary') and later, on crutches.

After school, Quinn would drive Rachel straight to physical therapy – were Rachel would sweat and grit her teeth and try not to cry. Where she would push herself – harder and harder and _harder_ every single day. And when she would fall – which was all too often, in Rachel's opinion – Jackson would be there to help her up, and Quinn would be there with words of encouragement and smoothies.

After the therapy sessions – which happened six days a week – Rachel and Quinn would go home. And then the real fun would begin. Jackson had taught both Rachel and Quinn approximately twenty different exercises for Rachel to do at home – to rebuild her muscles, initially; to strengthen her muscles, at this point. These were the times of the day (once before dinner, and once before bed) when Rachel wouldn't hold back. She would cry and she would squeeze the color out of Quinn's hands and she would beg for Quinn to let her stop. '_I can't do that, Rachel_,' Quinn had replied. '_You know that I __**won't**__ do that_.'

And so, Quinn had become her rock. _No, _Rachel mentally corrected herself. _She's become my wings.

* * *

_

_Rachel was ten years old the first time she fell during a performance._

_It was her 4__th__ Annual Dance Recital with Miss Sherry's studio. Rachel had gone to do a double pirouette – a __**pirouette**__, for goodness' sake – and she had slipped right at the end. It was a move she had been able to do since she was __**seven**__. And when she was seven, Rachel hadn't just done pirouettes – she had done them __**perfectly**__._

_So in that split second when she found herself on the floor, Rachel almost panicked. This was an unfamiliar sensation. Sure, Rachel had fallen before. But no – Rachel had most certainly __**never**__ fallen in front of such a large audience. This was mortifying. But instantly, Rachel thought, 'What would Barbra do?' and then she was on her feet. She stepped back into the formation and instantly picked up with the other girls._

_From the audience, Marcus and Brendon had held their breaths. But when Rachel curtseyed with the other girls and ran off stage after their number was finished, they released their breaths in sighs of relief._

_Rachel held back her tears as she stood in the wings, waiting for her group's next musical number. Miss Sherry walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You alright, dear?" she asked. Loudly._

_Rachel nodded, sniffling._

"_Now now, Rachel. Chin up!" Sherry commanded, tapping two fingers under Rachel's chin. Rachel immediately responded, lifting her chin adamantly, defiantly. "That's more like it! Now," she lowered her voice (marginally). "What happened, happened. Nothing to do about it now. I'm proud of your recovery, and you should be, too!" Rachel nodded. "Everyone learns humility at some point, my dear. Just remember," and now, Sherry was legitimately whispering and Rachel was listening acutely. "You were the best one out there, even with your fall."_

_Rachel smiled brightly as Miss Sherry walked away._

_So much for humility.

* * *

_

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Brendon had asked one final time before Rachel walked out the door.

Jackson had given her the ok two days previous. Marcus had given her the ok that morning. Quinn had given her constant emotional and physical support over the past couple of months, and was currently holding Rachel's hand tightly in hers.

"I'm sure, Daddy," Rachel said lovingly, a sweet smile on her face.

As she turned and walked down the walkway to her car, she tried to ignore her slight limp. Everyone had told her that it may never go away completely – a fact that Rachel refused to accept, but a fact that she could live with… For now.

Quinn opened the passenger door for Rachel, closing it behind her once she was safely seated inside. Jogging around to the driver's side, Quinn was soon sitting next to Rachel and starting the car. Quinn reached down to put the car in drive, but she found her movements stilled by Rachel's soft hand resting on top of her own.

"I'm _not_ sure," Rachel said. And Quinn almost missed it – it was whispered so softly and Rachel sounded so unsure of herself in that moment. Quinn looked into her eyes, and she knew that Rachel was scared. For ten weeks now, Rachel had been undergoing strenuous physical therapy. She had been doing her required exercises religiously. And yet, she had never spoken her biggest fear. She had never turned to Quinn and said, '_Quinn, what if I can never dance again?_' She had never said it, and so Quinn had never asked. But both girls were working tirelessly to prevent such an occurrence. A Rachel Berry incapable of dancing was a Rachel Berry whose dreams of Broadway Stardom were potentially _only_ that – dreams.

"But _I_am sure," Quinn replied. She turned her hand over, grasping Rachel's and bringing the girl's knuckles to her lips, kissing her skin gently, lovingly.

Rachel's smile was sweet and sad and just a little bit hopeful as Quinn finally put the car in drive and they headed towards Miss Sherry's studio.

* * *

_For Rachel's 6__th__ and 7__th__ Annual Dance Recitals, Rachel had been a featured soloist. When she was twelve and thirteen, respectively, she had performed small breakouts from her age group of girls – and when the crowd applauded at the end of each of the numbers, Rachel had __**known**__ that their applause was for all of the girls, yes – but it was for her in particular._

_But this year was Rachel's 8__th__ dance recital under Miss Sherry's direction. And this year, Rachel was again a featured soloist. However, this year, Rachel would be performing a number on stage – completely alone. Needless to say, her fellow ballet students had diminished in numbers over the years. Really, Rachel, a tiny Asian girl named Tina, and a few girls from Carmel were the only fourteen-year olds. While Tina – the shy girl with a stutter that Rachel was __**certain**__ was fake – and the others were too timid to perform an individual number, Rachel was not._

_She had been rehearsing her choreography for weeks. Miss Sherry had let her choose her own music. She had let Rachel choreograph her own moves (with guidance). And now was the moment._

_Right now, Rachel was walking gracefully out onto the stage. She was taking her place under the bright spotlight and bending her body into her starting pose._

_And the music began to play.

* * *

_

Miss Sherry hadn't seen Rachel in months – not since the girl had waltzed into her studio one day proclaiming her pregnancy and announcing that she would be returning in approximately nine months. Sherry had been shocked by the pregnancy, naturally. But shocked that the girl would promptly be returning to her classes after giving birth? Not at all.

So when Rachel showed up in the doorway of her office one afternoon when she didn't have any classes scheduled, Sherry _was_ surprised. Rachel – with a beautiful, blonde girl at her shoulder – was very obviously _quite_ pregnant. And she was also sporting a brace on her upper thigh.

Sherry had heard about the shooting – who hadn't, after all? She had sent flowers while Rachel was still in the hospital, but she hadn't seen Rachel since learning about her pregnancy. And now, here she was – standing in her doorway wearing purple sweatpants, a camisole, and an oversized grey sweatshirt with her pointe shoes hanging from her fingertips at her side. So naturally Sherry was surprised – the girl looked like she wanted to … Like she wanted to _dance_.

"Rachel!" Sherry exclaimed after allowing herself three seconds to process the situation. She jumped up and ran around her desk to greet Rachel with a kiss to each cheek. Holding the girl by her shoulders, she examined her. "Look at you, dear! I'm so glad to see you up and about."

"Hi, Miss Sherry. I got your flowers in the hospital. They were lovely."

Sherry tilted her head and grinned at her pupil. "Of course, dear. Of course. Now, why don't you sit down and we can catch up."

"Actually," Rachel replied. "I was wondering… Would you mind if I just… If I tried a few steps? My physical therapist and my Dad gave me the ok recently and, well, it's been driving me absolutely crazy."

Sherry observed Rachel – she really, honestly looked at the girl standing in front of her. For the first time, she noticed the fear in her eyes. _I'm afraid, _Sherry thought, _that she's finally learned the true meaning of humility._

"You're welcome to use the studio, absolutely. Is there anything you need?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, I have a CD to use and all my wraps and everything." Sherry nodded and Rachel and her friend turned to leave.

"Good luck!" Miss Sherry called as Rachel's head disappeared past the doorframe.

Rachel took a step back, glancing over her shoulder into the office again. She grinned nervously before taking a deep breath and saying, "Thank you, Miss Sherry."

It took Rachel longer than usual to put on her pointe shoes. It had been a few months since she had really danced. But she knew she could do it in her sleep, no matter how long it had been. She stretched – a relatively difficult task with her enlarged stomach. Quinn took a seat off to the side, pulling a blank CD from Rachel's bag and examining it in her lap.

After she had finished stretching, Rachel walked over and leaned against the wall next to Quinn's chair, her legs out in front of her and her hands resting on her baby bump. She took several deep breaths as she mentally prepared herself for what she was about to attempt.

"So what's it gonna be?" Quinn asked, waving the unidentifiable CD in Rachel's direction. "Swan Lake? The Lilac Fairy from Sleeping Beauty? Or will it be Laurey's dream ballet with Curly?"

Rachel smiled and lightly plucked the CD from Quinn's fingers. She walked towards the stereo system on the opposite wall while she said, "No, none of those. Something a little more 'Rachel Berry' in nature."

_

* * *

Rachel had finished her final pique and gracefully lowered her body to the floor as the final notes of her music played out. She remained face down, her legs artfully folded underneath her, as the overwhelming sounds of an audience cheering in admiration washed over her senses._

_She didn't smile at first. 'Is this a dream?' she wondered momentarily. 'Is this real life?' But it __**was**__ real life. It was happening right in front of her._

"_Rachel!" she heard from the wings. "Rachel, take your bows!" Miss Sherry – always one to observe traditions (loudly)._

_Rachel lifted her head and, through the blinding spotlight, she saw that the packed house was entirely on its feet._

_For her._

_So she smiled as she stood. And she smiled as she curtsied. And she smiled as she blew her fathers (on the front row) kisses while running off the stage._

_When she ran back onstage one final time – for a final wave and curtsey – she picked up the single rose that Brendon had tossed in her direction. She pressed it against her nose, inhaling its scent deeply._

_Rachel had never really dreamt of becoming a princess. She had always dreamt of becoming a __**star**__. And that night – Rachel's dream was solidified. She would be a star – no matter what.

* * *

_

As the music began to play, Rachel allowed herself to mentally journey back to the dance recital when she was fourteen. She took the same starting pose that she had taken almost two full years ago. And then she began to move with the music.

The pointe steps hurt. They really did. But she could do them.

And within seconds, Rachel knew that her leg was fine – she could _feel it_, down to her very bones. And she knew that she wasn't going to have to stop, she wasn't going to have to take it easy – she was going to perform her solo, and it was going to be even more flawless than it was the first time around when she received a standing ovation.

When Rachel finished – artfully dropping to the ground with her long tresses (that had come undone sometime during her performance) forming a curtain around her face – she was smiling and crying at the same time. Before she had time to even stand, Quinn was running towards her and dropping down on the ground, wrapping Rachel up in her arms.

"Beautiful," she was whispering, over and over. "You're amazing. You're so amazing. Nothing will ever stop you."

Rachel continued to cry and laugh and hold onto Quinn for all she was worth. _My wings_, she thought, pressing her face against Quinn's neck.

Sherry stood in the open studio's doorway, a tear in her eye. _Well,_ she thought, _I always knew she was special. _


	39. Reasons To Fall

_A/N: This chapter is really just a light interjection. I hope you enjoy anyway, there's a healthy dose of Brittana thrown in there as well. Also, I'd like to say 'THANKS' to everyone who reviews – even you __**Anon's**__ out there who obviously don't want me to reply to you individually!_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

It was April 25th. It wasn't too hot, and it wasn't too cold. Rachel and Quinn each held their light jackets in their laps during the drive from Lima to Westerville. Quinn put the car in park before leaning over the center console (_that damn center console,_ Rachel thought) and kissing Rachel. She gently laced her fingers through the delicate hair at the nape of Rachel's neck, holding her girlfriend in place – not that she was going anywhere, really. Rachel lightly bit at Quinn's lower lip, and Quinn responded by opening her mouth and accepting Rachel's tongue –

_Tap tap tap_.

"Oh for the love of Pete…" Rachel muttered, leaning back and clutching her hand to her chest. Her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was trying to slow her now-erratic heart rate.

Quinn was not pleased in the slightest. _What is it about this situation_, she thought angrily to herself, _that makes people think they need to come and tap on the damn window?_ Turning slowly in her seat, she prepared her HBIC glare for whoever had interrupted them.

Santana waved the fingers of her left hand at Quinn through the window – and her smirk was a little more than slightly ridiculous in size. She crossed her arms, waiting for Quinn's retribution.

Quinn unlocked the door and roughly pushed it open, secretly hoping to catch one or both of Santana's legs in the process. However, the other girl was too nimble, stepping out of harm's way easily.

"Well hello to you too, Q," Santana said, smirk still _fully_ in place.

Quinn huffed and narrowed her eyes at her 'best friend' before walking around to the other side of the car and opening the door for Rachel. Extending her hand gracefully, Rachel accepted Quinn's help up and out of the car. Then the girls both slipped on their jackets.

"Hello, _Santana_," Rachel managed to say between her clenched teeth.

Santana laughed. "Wow, are you guys _really_ mad at me?" Simultaneously, the other two girls' heads snapped in her direction, sending her severe glares and attempting to melt her flesh with their eyesight. "Oookay," she drawled. "I'll take that as a yes." Santana put her hands into the pockets of her zipped-up hoodie and began walking towards the entrance to the track in front of them. Quinn and Rachel quickly fell into step beside her, despite their frustrations at being interrupted.

"When does she go on?" Rachel asked.

"You guys made it just in time. Her race starts in about twenty minutes, so we have time to wish her luck."

Something about Santana's voice caused Quinn to tilt her head to the side to observe her best friend. Santana was looking down at the uneven ground in front of her as she walked, and she had a curiously bright smile on her face. _Completely and utterly in love with Brittany_, Quinn thought to herself. And then she looked to her other side and her breath caught in her throat – the sun was shining brightly and the slightly-cool wind had blown a few strands of Rachel's hair into her face, but that hadn't seemed to bother Rachel. She had a small smile gracing her lips and was protectively resting her hand that wasn't being held by Quinn on her stomach.

Rachel looked up suddenly, staring at Quinn through her eyelashes. Her smile grew as she bumped her shoulder lightly against Quinn's arm and asked, "What?"

Quinn bit her lip and tried not to blush at having been caught staring like a lovesick puppy at her girlfriend. "Nothing," she said, raising Rachel's hand and lightly brushing her lips across the girl's knuckles. "Just doing a bit of staring."

Rachel smirked and said, "Your mind is still stuck back in the car, isn't it?"

Quinn giggled. "And yours isn't?"

"Good point…"

"Oh my _god_," Santana said with exasperation in her voice. "Stop being so cute. It's _super_ gross."

Rachel and Quinn just laughed as the girls finally made their way into the motocross arena.

* * *

"Q! Rach!" Brittany yelled, skipping over to the girls as they approached her trailer. She was wearing a bright red jersey over some protective gear, equally bright red pants, and black boots.

Brittany wrapped an arm around each of their necks, pulling them into a three-way hug while bouncing up and down excitedly on the balls of her feet. "I'm so glad you guys made it!"

"Of course, B. We wouldn't miss it," Quinn replied as she gave Mr. Pierce a slight wave. He waved back before returning his attention to Brittany's bike, fine-tuning it before they would prepare to head to the track.

"I find the prospect of seeing a live motocross race quite exciting!" Rachel exclaimed. "Naturally, I googled motocross last night so that I would be prepared for today. But there's just something about this atmosphere that the internet cannot prepare you for!" Santana rolled her eyes. Quinn giggled. And Brittany's smile just grew as she nodded her head and hugged Rachel again around the neck.

"You guys, I have to go line-up in just a minute. So you should all go ahead and get seats!"

Quinn gave Brittany one last hug and a light kiss on the cheek while Rachel squeezed her hand. They each wished her an enthusiastic '_good luck!'_ before turning and heading back towards the stands. Santana stepped forward as the girls moved away, wrapping her arms lightly around Brittany's neck. Brittany responded by pulling Santana closer by the waist and resting their foreheads against each other.

"You're gonna be great," Santana said softly.

Brittany grinned and rubbed her nose against Santana's. "I know," she replied without the slightest trace of arrogance. Santana smiled brightly in response and pressed their lips together. A few (blissful) minutes passed in which they were completely uninterrupted.

And then a voice clearing behind Brittany reminded the girls of Mr. Pierce's presence.

Santana hastily broke their lip lock and began to blush fiercely. She tried to pull out of Brittany's embrace, but the other girl's grip was steadfast.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mr. Pierce said with mirth coating his voice. "But we need to head to the starting gates, Brit."

"Ok, Dad," Brittany replied brightly. She turned back to Santana. "I'll see you after, ok?"

Santana nodded, forcing herself to look from Brittany's lips and into her eyes instead. "Sounds good," she breathed out heavily. "Good luck."

"Oh, San," Brittany replied seriously. "Luck is a drug for the untalented masses."

Santana cocked her head to the side and studied Brittany's face, a curious expression on her own features. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"Sue."

Santana narrowed her eyes contemplatively before replying, "Well, that makes sense, I guess."

* * *

"Took you long enough," Quinn said as Santana finally took her place next to them in the stands.

"I had something to take care of," Santana replied haughtily.

"More like some_one_," Rachel said. Quinn held her hand up and they high-fived gleefully.

"Ok, _again_ – you two are disgusting."

Suddenly, the announcer's voice cut across their conversation, announcing the lineup for the next race. Rachel squealed when '_Pierce, #22_' was announced, jumping up and clapping with eager anticipation. Again, Santana just rolled her eyes – though she was just as excited for Brittany, if not more so.

"There's so many of them," Quinn remarked. She felt a sudden wave of nervousness for her other best friend.

"It's fine, Q. B is used to the crowding. But this is her first serious 250 race so… I don't know, she didn't seem nervous about it, so I'm trying not to be." Santana copied Rachel now, standing up so that she could get a better look.

The track was vast, the girls could barely see the far side of it from their position in the stands. But they could see the finish line, and that was the most important bit, after all. Suddenly, as if there was some unseen cue from the stands, all of the riders started revving their engines.

"Here we go," Santana muttered under her breath, nervously clenching her hands that were hidden in her pockets into fists. "Come on, B."

There was a set of lights closer to the starting gates, and it started ticking down. When it turned green, the gate dropped. "And they're off!" Rachel exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

* * *

Quinn had her arms wrapped around Rachel from behind with the pregnant girl leaning back against her. They both had huge smiles on their faces as they watched Santana prepare to throw her arms around Brittany's neck. Brittany crouched down slightly as Santana ran at her and grabbed her around the waist, lifting up and spinning her around. Both girls were laughing brightly, and they looked as if nothing in the world could stop them as they kissed lovingly.

"I'm so proud of you," Santana mumbled against Brittany's lips. "You were amazing out there. And now I'm turned on beyond belief."

Brittany's smile turned mischievous. But before she could reply, some guy came up to Brittany holding a rather large trophy. So instead of blowing him off to make out with Santana, Brittany chose to be polite. She graciously took the trophy from him, shaking his hand in the process. Her dad snapped some photographs of Brittany sitting on her bike (with the trophy), Brittany and Santana on Brittany's bike (with the trophy), and all four girls side-by-side (with the trophy). Rachel convinced Mr. Pierce to get out from behind the camera, and she snapped a few photos of him with his daughter (and with the trophy, of course).

"Thank you guys for coming, seriously. It was awesome of you," Brittany said as all four girls stood in something resembling a circle.

"I must say," Rachel said. "The internet most certainly did _not_ prepare me in the slightest for the intense excitement that I experienced while watching you race! That was fantastically compelling. I can't wait to see more of your races in the future, Brittany!"

Quinn smiled lopsidedly at her girlfriend. "Yeah, B. What she said. You were totally awesome."

Brittany just continued to smile brightly at her friends while Santana leaned into her side, staring reverently up at her adorable face.

"Well, it's quite a drive back. I should get Sleepy here home," Quinn said, gesturing towards Rachel.

Rachel's mouth dropped open in mock-shock. "Sleepy?" she questioned.

"Oh please, don't even pretend that you're capable of staying up past nine thirty anymore."

Rachel proceeded to pout spectacularly. "But it's because of the baby…"

"Right," Quinn replied happily. "The baby."

Brittany hugged Rachel and Quinn each again before they turned and headed back to the car. She then turned towards Santana, resuming their previous position with Santana's arms around her neck. "They're cute together," she said softly.

"Yeah," Santana agreed begrudgingly. "Absolutely _adorable_."

* * *

At approximately nine thirty-seven, Quinn slid under the covers of Rachel's bed. The other girl was already breathing deeply, having crawled into bed herself a good half hour or so previous. Quinn propped herself up on one elbow and stared for a few moments.

She took in the way Rachel's head was tilted slightly to the left, towards Quinn, and how her left hand was resting near her face with her palm facing upwards. She noted the loose ponytail Rachel had thrown her hair up in as she had gotten ready for bed and how several strands of hair decorated the pillow case framing her face. As Rachel inhaled and exhaled, Quinn followed the rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin sleep shirt she was wearing.

_You're being a super perv, Fabray_, Quinn thought to herself. And then she realized with heart-stopping certainty that, dammit, she was _allowed_ to be a perv. This magnificent example of the female form lying next to her in bed was her _girlfriend_. She could perv all she wanted!

A quite ridiculous smile spread across her lips, and she leaned down and lightly kissed Rachel on the cheek. Rachel's skin was inarguably the softest thing Quinn had ever felt in her life. An addiction, perhaps. She kissed Rachel's forehead and the side of her nose. She gently placed open-mouthed kisses on Rachel's neck. And then she cupped Rachel's cheek in her hand and softly said, "I am completely in love with you, Rachel Berry."

"Mmm," Rachel moaned lightly in her sleep, rolling over in Quinn's direction and subconsciously draping her right arm over Quinn's waist. Quinn's heart fluttered at the contact.

"So in love," she said. "That it's not even funny."

* * *

_We're on a wire, but it's better than drowning._  
_And I don't care if I fall, 'cause I've never been higher._  
_Everything's changing, but I don't care for sameness._  
_'Cause safety makes graves of the fearful, I find._  
_Could you be safe in my arms, and scared at the same time?_  
_Running towards and away 'til you're standing still.

* * *

A/N: Happy Valentines' Day._


	40. Your Call

_A/N: Hello. I'll be out of town for a few days. Next chapter Monday or Tuesday. Enjoy this one._

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn rolled over and swatted her hand at the incessantly beeping alarm clock before returning to her previous position and stretching out her arm – only to come into contact with an empty bed. Instantly, a frown marred her pristine features. She wasn't used to waking up alone… Except when…

She blinked sleepily and sat up, looking in the direction of Rachel's desk. "Biology test today?" she managed to utter – though her voice was still coated with tiredness.

Rachel turned from the light of her desk lamp towards her bed – towards Quinn, who was looking like a beautiful, sleepy angel. "Yep," she replied with a small grin. She stood up and made her way over to where Quinn was still half-sitting up in bed. The covers had moved aside to show a generous amount of Quinn's bare thigh leading up to the bottoms of her boyshorts. "Mrs. Carlisle spares no expense when it comes to learning about organelles… and such…"

"Mmm," Quinn replied, turning her body towards Rachel's approaching form and falling back against the pillows. "You should lie back down with me."

"I can't do that," Rachel said. Quinn's eyes widened slightly at the husky tone of Rachel's voice.

"And why is that?"

"Well," Rachel began. She leaned heavily against the side of the bed, trailing her fingers up and down Quinn's exposed forearm. Quinn's eyelids closed heavily at the sensation. It just felt so perfect and, after only a few seconds had passed, Quinn's mind was slowing down and she was surely going to fall asleep if Rachel didn't – "I thought you'd like to know…" Quinn suppressed a moan as Rachel's breath ghosted against the sensitive flesh of her ear. _When did she get so close?_ Quinn absently wondered, eyes still shut. "… That both of my dads had work early this morning. So we're completely alone right now." Quinn was sure her heart had stopped beating at this point, her chest was still as she held her breath. "And I'm going to blame it on my pregnancy hormones, because I'm not sure that being turned on _this much_ by seeing my scantily-clad girlfriend lying in my bed is possible otherwise." Quinn gulped, and her eyes snapped open, seeking out Rachel's. "Shower with me?" Rachel asked.

Quinn didn't even answer – she just threw the covers completely off the rest of her body, gripped Rachel's right hand tightly in her left, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Rachel's giggles echoed around the small space, and Quinn realized that she had never been happier.

* * *

Quinn's happiness – while certainly not misplaced – was most definitely short-lived.

That afternoon at the Cheerios' practice, Coach Sylvester spotted Kurt lagging ever so slightly behind the last Cheerio as they ran their customary 4-lap mile around the track to '_cool off.'_

"Porcelain!" Sue exclaimed through her megaphone. "Get your little booty in gear! I need all of you to be in perfect shape – because once glee club has been completely and utterly _destroyed_, my budget will be restored. And with that restored budget will come even more obscenely over-produced routines – and you'll all need to be at your best. In fact, just last week I was talking to Katy Perry and –"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Kurt said loudly, having continued around the track until the pack of Cheerios was standing in front of their Coach. "What are you saying about glee?"

"Well, it's quite simple, Lady. But let me spell it out for you in terms you can comprehend – the Show Choir Governing Board has decided that this year's Regionals will be judged by _celebrities_. And I'm a celebrity now. Therefore, one Sue Sylvester has been chosen to judge. And judge, I will. And you know what that means?" The glee club members who were also Cheerios stood dumbly in front of their Coach, heads moving back and forth lamely. "It means that _I'm going to __**crush**__ glee club._"

* * *

It was one week until Regionals. It was one month until Rachel's due date.

And it was the day of Russell Fabray's trial.

Quinn wore a black dress to the courthouse. When Rachel questioned her about it, she replied, "It's the official end of a horrible chapter in my life – the chapter of my life that involved Russell Fabray in any capacity. It's the end of all that, Rach. The death of the person I used to be. Because I used to think that people couldn't change, but you showed me that wasn't true. Over the past several months, I've become a person capable of loving you – and I never want to see the old Me again."

Rachel – experiencing one of the rare moments in her life where words or song couldn't quite express her feelings efficiently – turned Quinn away from the full-length mirror in her bedroom, placed her hands on either side of her girlfriend's face, and crashed their lips together.

Because sometimes words weren't enough.

And when they finished kissing – though would they ever _really_ be finished kissing? – their lips parted and they leaned their foreheads against each other and they breathed in the soft exhalations of the other's breaths. And they were content – they were simply _content_ in that moment to be with each other and to touch each other and to _feel the other's presence_ next to them.

Finally – reluctantly – Rachel bit her lip and closed her eyes and (with great resolve) pulled back from Quinn. But she didn't release the soft hands that were clutched in her own. "We should get going."

"I know," Quinn agreed, reaching forward and pulling Rachel into nothing more than a hug – and nothing less than a gesture of love and comfort and support and need.

* * *

The cool feel of the wooden bench against Quinn's legs wasn't soothing – not like the pews in church. These benches were harsh. They were scary. And Quinn couldn't do anything about it.

She stared forward, unblinkingly taking in the front of the courtroom. It was kind of like the movies, kind of not. There wasn't a jury or anything – apparently Russell Fabray's case didn't warrant a trial… There was something about a settlement. Quinn couldn't bring herself to care. After all, there were witnesses to both of the shootings. And Quinn's and Finn's testimony about the child abuse.

'_Opened and closed_' was the phrase Quinn had heard used. Opened. And closed.

Much like the last sixteen years of her life.

"Hey."

The word was spoken softly from her left. She blinked once. And then she turned her head, and there was Rachel. There was Rachel – her anchor, her strength, her unwavering support – staring at her with beautiful chocolate eyes and love. "Hey back," Quinn whispered.

Rachel didn't respond verbally – she just turned back towards the front of the room and leant her head against Quinn's shoulder, rubbing her thumb across the skin on the back of Quinn's hand over and over. _Funny_, Quinn thought, _how she can rest her head on my shoulder when everything in my life is resting on her heart._

Suddenly, a door on the far side of the room opened and an officer guided Russell Fabray inside.

There was a brief moment – in the second as Russell was turning to sit in his designated chair – when his eyes locked with his daughter's. And then he was sitting and Quinn's eyelids were fluttering and her lip was quivering and her hand was squeezing the color out of Rachel's. '_It's ok, baby_' she heard whispered against her cheek. But she couldn't look away from the back of his head.

She didn't see the judge come in or hear the gavel pound to call the room to order. She didn't hear the charges being read out to the room at large. She didn't feel the time slipping by in a rush past her eyes and ears. And she didn't realize that the judge was pounding the gavel again and the people in the room were standing to disperse. It was over, and she didn't even know.

"Quinn, we can go now."

"What?" Quinn finally regained the ability to control her voice, to speak without screaming in rage or sobbing in desperation. "Already?"

"Already?" Rachel echoed her question. "It's been almost two hours, Quinn."

Quinn simply nodded her head once, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times in the process. "Ok, let's go."

She stood behind Rachel and allowed the pregnant girl to lead her from the room and from the courthouse and to the car. As she trailed a single step behind her girlfriend, she couldn't help but notice Rachel's still-noticeable limp. When they finally got into the backseat of Marcus's car, Quinn burst out into tears and laid down across the seats, putting her head in Rachel's lap – her lips delicately pressed against the soft material of Rachel's dress that encompassed her baby bump. Rachel's hands wound themselves in Quinn's hair, whispering calming words in her direction and attempting to comfort her through her touch.

Brendon and Marcus didn't say a word, but they held hands over the gearshift – hearts breaking for the hurting girl in the backseat and hoping that their daughter was strong enough to help her heal.

* * *

Later that day – well after Rachel had managed to calm Quinn down and sooth at least a handful of the blonde's worries – the entirety of New Directions found themselves sitting around Mr. Schuester's living room.

Everyone looked absolutely depressed. It was oddly reminiscent of their time spent in the green room before their performance at Sectionals – before they had rallied and come back to shove their first place trophy down the cheating throats of their competition.

But for now… They just looked depressed.

"Alright well, uhhh… Let's get started," Mr. Schuester said, ignoring the doom and gloom as best as he could and clapping his hands together – an action he did all too often. "Thank you for coming to the First Annual New Directions' Regionals Setlist Nomination Party!"

"What's the point, Mr. Schue?" Artie questioned, his lips downturned and his eyes glistening. "Coach Sylvester's one of the judges. She's gonna crush us."

"Artie, you don't know that," Mr. Schuester countered.

"Yes, we do," Santana said. "She told us at Cheerios' practice."

"Yeah, she said, '_I'm going to crush glee club_,'" Brittany reiterated monotonously.

"The whole _freaking_ year," Puck said. "All that work for _nothing_."

Tina burst into tears. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just really love you guys. You know how many Facebook friends I had before I joined glee club?" She holds up two fingers. "Two. My parents. Rachel was right – being part of something special, it made me special. I just can't believe it's gonna be over in a week." She managed to say the last sentence before she was wracked with another wave of sobs.

"Wait," Quinn interjected. "Who said it's gonna be over?"

"Please, you think Puck and Santana are even gonna acknowledge my existence when we're not in glee club together anymore?" Mercedes asked.

"… She has a point." Puck.

Rachel glanced from face to face – scanning the sad, pathetic excuses for _glee club_ members around her. It was ironically similar to their imminent defeat at Sectionals – and just like then, Rachel knew she had to step up now.

"Ok, look – I know the situation looks impossible. But Miss Sylvester is _not_ the only judge on that panel. And she may be a bully at heart. And she may be trying to wipe this club off the face of the earth with everything in her power. But at the end of the day, if we perform with _heart_ and _pride_ and the _love_ that we feel for each other and what it means to be a part of glee club," Rachel said, turning to look directly at Tina. "To be a part of _something special_, then we can still win this. We can. So let's stop moping and feeling sorry for ourselves – we're throwing in the towel before we've even tried! Let's do what we came here to do. Let's choose our songs for the competition so we can start working on our choreography immediately."

It wasn't an instantaneous uprising of support for each other. And it wasn't quite like some invisible flip had been switched. But Rachel started conversing with Mr. Schue about song choices. And then Quinn joined in. And then Finn. And Mercedes always had an opinion, so she was close behind. And slowly but surely, everyone was talking and shouting out ideas and Mike was randomly pop-and-locking and things felt better. Not quite normal – but since when was _glee club_ ever _normal_?

And when they decided on a '_Journey_' themed Regionals setlist, everyone was satisfied. Because, seriously? What a journey it had been…

* * *

That night, Quinn sat down at the Berrys' kitchen table. Tonight's takeout was Italian, and Quinn's mouth was watering as she ate – quite literally – the most delicious breadstick she had ever consumed in her entire life.

Rachel had launched into an explanation about the glee club's song choices for their competition in exactly one week and how they were absolutely going to _'wipe the floor'_ with Vocal Adrenaline. Quinn had snorted into her fettuccine and Marcus had patted her kindly on the back while suppressing his own laughter.

The doorbell rang, and Quinn hopped up quickly to answer it, indicating that the rest of them should enjoy their dinner and not worry about it. Rachel was still addressing her dads anyway, and Quinn didn't want to interrupt that tangent.

She had a small smile on her face as she approached the foyer. It had been one hell of a day, there was no doubt about that. But Quinn took comfort in the fact that she had a _real_ family now – a place where she felt love and belonging and acceptance.

And as she opened the door to a lightly smiling Jesse St. James, the smile immediately slipped off of her lips.

_Déjà vu, _Quinn thinks as Jesse opens his mouth, fully prepared to launch into a speech about something or other that Quinn frankly didn't give a damn about listening to.

_The perfect end to the perfect day, _she ponders as she slams the door in his face. 


	41. Into Your Arms

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

When Quinn stormed back into the kitchen, her arrival was met with confused glances.

"Quinn?" Rachel questioned. "What's wrong?"

When all Quinn was capable of doing was leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms, and huffing out a puff of disgruntled air, the Berrys knew that something out of the ordinary was most certainly going on.

And then doorbell rang again. Marcus and Brendon gave each other curious looks before they got up and headed towards the door themselves this time. Rachel stood, using one hand to push herself up into a standing position and the other to gently cradle her stomach.

Approaching Quinn, Rachel immediately reached one of her hands out and laid it on top of Quinn's bare arm. "Quinn, sweetie," she implored, trying to get Quinn to open her closed eyes. "Look at me."

And Quinn did. She opened her eyes and she looked at her girlfriend. And she tried to hide the anger and frustration that she had been feeling since she had opened the door to find Jesse St. James standing on the other side. But she failed – and she failed spectacularly. And Rachel didn't know why the emotions swirling in Quinn's eyes and across her facial features were there in the first place, but she did know that, at the end of the day, she was in love. And for Rachel, love trumps all other emotions – all the time.

"It'll be ok," Rachel uttered softly, reaching her other hand up to cup the side of Quinn's face. "Whatever it is, it'll be ok."

Quinn unconsciously leaned into Rachel's soothing touch. She opened her mouth to reply to Rachel – to tell her why she was upset. To explain what Jesse's sudden appearance had done to her heart. To try and describe the inexplicable anger that had risen up inside of her chest and caused her cheeks to flush.

But then Rachel's dads entered the kitchen. And in between them was the cause of Quinn's turmoil. Rachel saw them first – as she was searching Quinn's eyes and waiting for an answer from her girlfriend, she glanced over towards the kitchen entryway and there was the father of her child.

"Jesse," her voice was quiet but loud enough to send Quinn's stomach sinking to the floor with the two syllables of his name. The attention of both girls immediately snapped from one another to Jesse.

"Rachel," he said. And Quinn tried to read his voice. Was there hidden malice? Concealed resentment? Could she discern an ulterior motive? "I hope you don't mind me stopping in at this time of the night." He sounded cool and suave – the same as he always did. "But I think we need to talk. About us. And about the baby."

Quinn took a deep breath before side-stepping her girlfriend gently and preparing to launch into an angry tirade directed at the boy who was now standing less than five feet in front of her. But as her mouth opened to begin berating his sudden appearance and to question what rights he thought he actually had – let alone _deserved_ – she was interrupted. Again.

"Quinn," Rachel said, a gentle yet firm hand resting on Quinn's right arm. "I think that Jesse and I need to have a brief conversation." Quinn turned to look at the small girl behind her, the words, '_Are you kidding me right now?_' lingering on the tip of her tongue as Rachel continued. "Alone would be best. Only for a few minutes, ok?"

It must be understood that Quinn trusted Rachel. She really did. When Rachel woke up in the middle of the night craving pickles and peanut butter, Quinn would smile lovingly and roll out of bed – because if Rachel said she wanted pickles and peanut butter, then that's what she wanted. When Rachel suggested that putting headphones on her stomach and playing classical music would increase the baby's intelligence, Quinn smiled and went to the store to buy the proper style of headphones to wrap around her girlfriend's tummy – because if Rachel said it was true, Quinn was sure that she had good reason. And when Rachel stood in the kitchen telling Quinn that she needed to talk to the father of her child (the guy who had attempted to sabotage Quinn and Rachel's relationship _and_ the foundation of the glee club itself) _alone_ for a few minutes, Quinn knew that she would stand aside and let it happen – because Rachel knew what was best. And at the end of the day, Quinn realized that Colby belonged – genetically, at least – to Jesse and Rachel. Not herself and Rachel.

So she suppressed whatever emotions were waiting on the tip of her tongue to be expressed, and she nodded. And Rachel drug her fingers down Quinn's arm to her fingertips and squeezed them lovingly once before walking out of the kitchen. Jesse – with one quick glance in Quinn's direction – turned and dutifully followed Rachel into her dads' office.

As Quinn heard the soft '_click_' of the study door closing, she quickly turned back to the kitchen counter, placing her palms flat against the cool surface to steady herself. Her eyes closed again and she took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her heartbeat – which had been beating furiously since her first glance at Jesse's unwelcome face. She didn't even realize when Marcus and Brendon approached her.

"Quinn," Marcus said softly. "Are you alright?" He was standing next to her, one hand firmly clasped on her shoulder. Quinn opened her eyes and looked up at him, and then she glanced briefly at Brendon who was leaning on the other side of the counter.

"Honestly?" she questioned. Marcus nodded once. "Not entirely. There's just something about him, something that I can't put my finger on. But he's sneaky. And manipulative." She paused. "And he doesn't like me."

Marcus chuckled. "That may be the case," he said. "But Rachel has grown up a lot over the past several months. She can take care of herself. We just have to trust her."

Quinn swallowed hard once before replying. "I trust her, I absolutely do. It's him that I don't trust."

* * *

"…so that's why I want you to move to L.A. with me when I go there in July for school."

For a few moments, Rachel's jaw was dropped and her eyebrows were raised. And she was looking at Jesse with what was perhaps the most incredulous look she could possibly concoct after such short notice. Finally, she spoke.

"I can only hope – with all sincerity – that you understood the absurdity of that statement before it left your mouth."

Now, Jesse's jaw dropped. "What?" he exclaimed, a bit louder than was necessary. "What do you mean? It's the perfect solution to our situation. They have housing for couples on campus. So all three of us could live together – you, me, and our baby. _Our _baby, Rachel – she'll need both her mom _and_ her dad to have a strong upbringing. And you could finish high school in L.A. We'll both be in school during the day, so the baby will be in daycare. And then once you graduate, you can go to UCLA with me. I'm sure I can get you in at that point –"

"Excuse me?" Rachel interjected. "There is so much wrong with the words you're saying right now that I can hardly find it within myself to allow you to continue! First of all, a child doesn't need _both_ a mother and a father figure in order to have a great childhood – I should be an example of that! And to imply otherwise is indescribably insulting – to me _and _to my fathers. And the baby _will_ have male and female figures in her life. There will always be my dads, and there's me, and there's _Quinn_, for goodness' sakes. And second of all, I'm almost _more_ insulted by the implication that I will need your help to get into school! And while I can respect the fact that UCLA has a strong arts program, I will settle for nothing less than Julliard. Furthermore –"

"Ok!" Jesse proclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "So we'll compromise."

Rachel sighed, irritated. "What compromise is there to make, Jesse? I'm not moving anywhere before I graduate from McKinley. And then I'll be moving to New York after graduation –"

"And who's going to be in the City to help you, huh? You can't handle a two-year old on top of attending classes full-time. You just can't do that alone. There's no possible way…"

Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she pushed herself up and off of the couch. She turned and looked down her nose at Jesse, and the tension in the air was immediately palpable. "My name," she began. "Is Rachel _Barbra_ Berry. And if I set my mind to it, I _will_ accomplish it – with or without the help of anyone else! And the last thing I need in my life is a _doubter_, do you understand me, Jesse St. James? And you, sir, are a _serious_ doubter. To come into _my_ house and tell me how to live _my_ life is completely outrageous!" She turned abruptly and stomped – _stomped _– over to the study door, swinging it open harshly. "And you're no longer welcome in this house. Goodbye."

She stood back, indicating the open door as an exit for Jesse – who was still sitting on the couch with his mouth hanging open foolishly. Finally, he clenched his jaw tightly and stood. He approached Rachel and stared down his nose at _her_ now, a sneer firmly in place. "I see how it is," he snarled. "You're choosing life in _Lima_, Ohio, of all places! And you're giving up the chance for that baby to be raised knowing her father. I get it – you're choosing Quinn over me."

"If that was ever actually a legitimate choice, then it was never even a contest," Rachel said coolly.

By now, the three kitchen occupants had heard Rachel's shouting and had filed out into the hallway. They were watching the scene disintegrate in front of their eyes.

Jesse's eyes flickered from Rachel's face to her fathers and then they settled on Quinn. The girl stood resolutely, strongly squaring her shoulders as if daring Jesse to say the wrong thing. "You'll regret this," Jesse spit out from between his teeth. His eyes shifted back to Rachel's. "Trust me."

And before Brendon even had time to step forward and throw Jesse from his house for threatening his family, the boy was already gone.

* * *

Before long, Quinn and Rachel were lying in bed. Music was softly playing in the background, and the soft breeze from the open window was causing the curtain to flutter softly against the wall. Rachel was on her left side – pretty much the only comfortable position left at her disposable – and Quinn was lying on her right side facing the pregnant girl.

Rachel's fingertips were trailing softly up and down Quinn's arm, causing goosebumps to form on Quinn's flesh. The movement of her hand began to slow down, and Quinn directed her sight from Rachel's lips to the tired girl's eyes – they were drooping ever so slightly, each blink lasting longer than the one before.

Quinn's mind flashed back to the shouting she had heard Rachel doing earlier that evening, and she decided to call Rachel out on it before the girl passed out.

"Rachel?"

"Hmm?" Rachel mumbled back sleepily, her eyelids fluttering open slightly (and adorably, as always).

"Earlier in the study, when you were yelling at Jesse…" Rachel's eyes stayed open longer, curious as to what Quinn was going to ask – whether she was going to address the fact that Rachel had blatantly announced that she would choose Quinn over Jesse or the fact that she was planning on moving to New York City after high school or – "You said that your middle name was Barbra," Quinn interrupted Rachel's thoughts.

"Yes, and?" Rachel replied – relief coating her insides as she realized that this wasn't going to be a heavy conversation. Her eyes began to close again.

"Isn't your middle name Phoebe?" Quinn asked hesitantly, a small grin forming on her lips.

"Which is exactly why I said my middle name was Barbra, sweetie. And that's what I'll be sticking to, despite what my birth certificate says. There aren't many events for which I question my fathers' judgments – and while their obsession with Friends and the name 'Rachel' most certainly doesn't cause any harm, there's just something about the name 'Phoebe' that causes my skin to crawl. I'm getting it officially changed when I turn eighteen…" Rachel trailed off as sleep finally overcame her completely.

Quinn bit her lip to suppress her giggles. "Such a drama queen," she whispered quietly as she leaned forward and kissed Rachel softly on the forehead before tugging the blanket up and over her slumbering form.

"I heard that," Rachel mumbled into her pillow.


	42. Use Somebody

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Rachel was laying back on the table. Quinn was sitting next to her, leisurely flipping through a paternity magazine.

"…And apparently there's a recent study that suggests that kids with working moms don't suffer as compared to kids with stay-at-home moms…" Quinn trailed off as she flipped to a different page in the magazine.

Rachel looked over at Quinn. The lights were dimmed in the room as they waited for the nurse to come in and begin the ultrasound. Quinn's hair was cascading softly over one of her shoulders and she was leaning back nonchalantly in her chair, the fingers of her right hand deftly holding the magazine. Quinn opened her mouth to read the title of another interesting article when her eyes flickered up momentarily. And when her eyes shifted in that moment towards Rachel, she noticed that the other girl was grinning at her crookedly.

"What?" Quinn asked, mirth lacing her voice as she gave Rachel a devious stare – as if she was daring her to tell a lie.

Rachel bit her lip. "Just admiring your beauty. And realizing how lucky I am to have you."

Quinn arrogantly opened up her magazine again and held it in front of her nose. "Yes, you are lucky, aren't you?"

Rachel chuckled quietly, but responded only by leaning up on one elbow and staring even more fully at Quinn. Ever so slightly, Quinn lowered her magazine – slowly, her eyes were revealed. And as soon as Rachel could see her girlfriend's eyes, she playfully stuck her tongue out. Quinn gasped dramatically and dropped her magazine down to her lap. Rachel fell back onto the table, laughing at this point. Quinn stuck her own tongue out and then proceeded to pout with her arms crossed.

The nurse entering the room caused both girls to sober up significantly.

"Good afternoon, Miss Berry," the nurse said sweetly. "How are you feeling?"

"As well as can be expected. Though I make Quinn here carry my bag around every chance that I get." Rachel smiled sweetly at Quinn, and Quinn felt that it was unnecessary to inform the nurse that she carried Rachel's things willingly.

The nurse laughed lightly before preparing the ultrasound machine. Rachel expectantly raised her shirt, and the nurse applied the topical gel. Rachel shivered at the touch of cold to her bare skin. "Sorry," the nurse said softly. Rachel just smiled at her in understanding.

In just a few moments, a picture was lighting up on the monitor. Quinn had scooted her chair closer and was now clutching Rachel's hand tightly in her own, pressing her lips against the smooth skin of the backs of Rachel's hands. A heavy breath left her lips as she marveled at the sight in front of her. Quinn tore her eyes away from the screen for the briefest of moments – just to look at Rachel. And what she saw caused her heart to swell in her chest and the air to escape from her lungs in a rush. Rachel was absolutely captivated – she was mesmerized – and Quinn could see the love in her eyes. Sure, when Rachel looked at her, Quinn could feel their love as if it were a tangible entity in the air around them. But Quinn began to cry silently as she saw the love of a mother for her child in Rachel's gaze.

"Everything looks perfect!" the nurse exclaimed kindly. Quinn's eyes snapped back to the screen as the nurse pointed out fingers and toes and a heartbeat.

"Well," Rachel finally said, her voice thick with emotion and unshed tears. "I never expected anything less."

* * *

Rachel opened her locker, and she immediately noticed the neatly folded (and out of place) piece of paper resting on top of her calculus book. Confused – yet intrigued – she placed her book bag in her locker and held the note gingerly in one hand. She slowly opened it up and read the message that was scrawled across the lines. With each word, her eyes got wider and wider. Finally – having read the message in its entirety – she crumpled the note up in her fist and violently slammed her locker door.

Kurt, Tina, Artie, and Mercedes were walking by as Rachel turned – fuming – from her locker to the busy hallway. They were gossiping loudly about their chances at Regionals the following week when Rachel interrupted them, proclaiming, "You guys have to come to the auditorium with me, it's an emergency!"

The frantic and angry look on the pregnant girl's features warranted no room for discussion.

On their way to the auditorium, the disgustingly efficient Cell Phone Calling Cascade pulled in Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Mike, Matt, Puck, and Finn. When they entered the auditorium, everyone was surprised to see that the risers were set up on stage and several lights were on – everyone was surprised except for Rachel who was still clutching the crumpled note in her palm.

As they filtered down the middle aisle, a bright spotlight suddenly illuminated the stage.

"St. James?" Finn questioned. "What is this? What are you doing in our auditorium?"

Jesse ignored Finn and directed his response with a pointing of his chin toward Rachel and Quinn. "As you all know, I recently transferred back to Carmel High."

"Pfft," Mercedes said. "We all know you were expelled."

"Though I'm sure they were waiting for you with open arms," Kurt added disdainfully.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this," Jesse started back up again. "No… I'm not sorry. Not at all, actually. You guys were _awful_ to me. You never accepted me. You never listened to my _clearly_ superior ideas while I was in the brief fever dream that is 'New Directions.' And _you_, Rachel – you threw my offer of a _family_ back in my face like it was _nothing_."

Quinn stepped forward, purposefully angling her body in front of Rachel's. "Why are you here?" she asked. And her voice was quiet – but it carried to the stage and it dripped with venom. And Jesse probably should've walked away, but he had an audience.

"The blogs and chatrooms say that we're finished, and that you're _ripe_ to topple us. We just wanted to show you something that we came up with a few days ago to see if you agree with that assessment."

The WMHS glee club members immediately recognized the opening notes of the song. Quinn cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow appreciatively. _Huh_, she thought. _Maybe Jesse really does understand the use of 'irony.'_ But despite the theme of the song and the implication that another one would quite literally be 'biting the dust,' the glee club members were realizing something. And it was something that was shaking them to their very core – they had heart and passion, but Vocal Adrenaline had perfectly choreographed and carried out routines, they had a star vocalist who had experienced victory several years in a row already. What did New Directions have? Did they stand a chance, really, after all of this time?

As the number came to a close, one of the girls in Vocal Adrenaline possessively wrapped her arm around Jesse's neck and said, "Thanks for letting us borrow your auditorium guys. It's _quaint_." And then Vocal Adrenaline was gone.

* * *

The situation had become dire by the time the glee club reached the choir room – only to find endless streams of toilet paper lining the walls and music stands and instruments.

"I feel so violated," Tina said. "It's like someone broke into our home."

Everyone began moving around the room, collecting the toilet paper into trashcans and generally exuding extreme levels of moroseness.

"Look, it was just a lame little prank," Mr. Schuester said – after he got over his own shock at seeing the mess that was their rehearsal space. "And the fact that they're trying to get to us means maybe we've got 'em spooked."

Despite Mr. Schue's 'encouraging' words, everyone continued to clean up the room in silence. Their only thoughts revolved around the perfection that was the song Vocal Adrenaline had performed in their (successful) psych out attempt and how their obvious talent coupled with the fact that Coach Sylvester would be sitting on the judges' panel spelled nothing but a disastrous end for their family, for New Directions.

And then – as if she could smell their misery – Sue walked into the choir room. Without wasting a beat, she planted herself in the middle of the floor and said, "Once I remodel this room, it'll be a great location to store my overflow of trophies. For me, trophies are like herpes – you can try to get rid of them, but they _just keep coming_. You know why? Because Sue Sylvester has hourly flair-ups of burning, itchy, highly contagious talent. Enjoy your last few days here." She turned to face Will head on. "This room is _mine_."

Everyone was left standing still, their emotions on overdrive and their heads spinning from Sue's vindictiveness. She stopped at the door and turned back to the room at large. "Q, follow me. We need to have a chat," she demanded.

Quinn's eyes immediately sought Rachel's out, and she felt fortified by the protectiveness and support she saw in her girlfriend's disposition. She nodded in Rachel's direction and then followed her Coach into the hall.

Sue squared up in front of Quinn and said, "Let me correct myself – this isn't really a 'chat' so to speak. What it is, is me following up on my consideration concerning your sexuality." Quinn's eyebrows rose dangerously, but she remained composed. "I was right – just so that's clear. Sue Sylvester is the _only_ person who can tell you what you are. And I've made up my mind, Q." Again, Quinn remained silent – at this point, she was genuinely curious. "_Gay_. You're as gay as they come. I can hardly stand the lovey dovey incessantly _nauseating_ performance you and Preggers put on every day, but the point remains the same. Since your generation is so obsessed with labels, I'm giving you yours. I don't really care what you tell other people," Sue tapped her finger against her temple, "but in _my_ mind – _gay_."

And then she turned and walked away, and as she rounded the corner, Quinn let out a relieved laugh and leaned back against the lockers behind her. It was funny, really. She hadn't thought much about her sexuality over the past several months. In fact, she had devoted more of her energy to determining God's opinion of her love for Rachel than whether or not she was actually gay or bi or… Or, whatever. And even though Sue seemed to have a strong opinion on the subject, Quinn still couldn't say for sure what she thought. And she smiled slightly to herself in relief, her eyes closing peacefully – because really, it wasn't that important right now.

The door opened next to her, and her head snapped to the side. Rachel's concerned face was the first thing that she took notice of. Rachel was leaning out of the door, but when she saw Quinn's position, she chose to step completely out of the room and close the door quietly behind her. She walked over and stood next to Quinn, her tummy filling the space between them as she stuck her hand out.

Quinn gratefully took Rachel's fingers in between her own. "What's up?" Rachel asked. Her tone was quiet – not forceful or demanding or overly eager to know what had gone down between Quinn and Sue. Instead, she sounded sweet and kind and patient.

"Sue was just telling me that I'm gay," Quinn responded.

Rachel's jaw dropped open and her eyes lit up. "What?" she said, and she was forced to hold back a laugh of shock.

"She told me a few weeks ago that she was the only person who could determine whether I was gay or straight or otherwise. So I guess she made up her mind. And she said that we were nauseating."

At this, Rachel smirked – and Quinn's heart swooned. "Well, we are."

"I know," Quinn said as she leaned forward to kiss Rachel on the cheek.

* * *

Cheerios' practice ran incredibly late that day after school. Quinn stayed behind – she was working with Coach Sylvester on the next year's Regionals routine. The choreography and the music selection had to be precise. And while everyone knows that Sue has an intense desire to win, there's a reason that she always wanted Quinn as her head Cheerio – the girl wanted to win almost as badly as her coach.

The beats to their newest routine were still pounding in Quinn's head. _One two three four_. She was picturing the steps and the fliers and the formations. _Five six seven eight_. The gymnastics passes and the tumbling. And she was so involved in her mindful examination of her squad that she almost – _almost_ – missed the revving of twelve engines as a veritable _fleet_ of Range Rovers pulled into the parking lot. They effectively blocked Quinn's forward progress to her car.

And there was a brief (albeit fleeting) moment where Quinn thought the entire thing was quite humorous. It was cliché and corny as the twenty or so members of Vocal Adrenaline piled out of the various vehicles. But then the novelty wore off, and Quinn realized that the situation was far from ideal. In fact, it was quite frightening.

"Can I help you?" Quinn sneered as she utilized the most sarcastic and HBIC-worthy tone she possessed.

For a group of young adults who obviously enjoyed the aspects of show business – the theatricality, the fame, the recognition – they were uncharacteristically silent. Even Jesse, who was standing ten feet in front of Quinn and facing her directly at this point, a hateful glare in his eyes. Quinn opened her mouth, intent on getting some response from them – or else moving around them completely to get to her car and out of what was presumably harm's way – was effectively silenced as something smashed against the back of her head.

Shocked – and slightly in pain from the sheer force of the blow to her skull – Quinn reached her right hand over her shoulder and felt her hair. Her fingers came away sticky. "Oh my God," she muttered under hear breath. "_Eww_."

And then every single member of Vocal Adrenaline was pulling eggs out of pockets that Quinn hadn't even noticed they possessed. And she was being assailed relentlessly. Not normally a person to be pushed around, Quinn found herself at an inexplicable loss as to what she should do.

So she stood there. And time seemed to slow down. And people were laughing. And Quinn was standing and trying to catch her breath. And for the first time in _months_, she felt completely and totally _alone_.

When she experienced a few moments during which nothing impacted her body, she hesitantly opened her eyes in time to see Jesse approaching her. She lifted her chin in a final act of defiance – though the gesture may have been lost in the mess of yolk dripping down her shoulders. Standing in front of her now, Jesse looked down his nose pointedly.

"Do it." The words left Quinn's lips in a harsh whisper. She wasn't entirely sure where they came from. Her eyes flickered down to Jesse's hand – it was tightly grasping one last egg.

"My life with Rachel would have been amazing. She's having _my_ baby – not _yours_," he scoffed. "I could have loved her."

"I _do_ love her."

Jesse curled his lip in disgust before smashing the egg on top of Quinn's head, forcing it to drip down the front of her face and onto her nose and lips.

The members of Vocal Adrenaline continued to laugh as they got into their cars and drove away. Quinn remained exactly where she was, a pile of white and yellow surrounding her. And she realized with a sense of loss and finality that their unexpected silence was exactly what they embodied – it _had_ been theatrical and dramatic. And it had been powerfully degrading.

Unblinkingly, Quinn continued on her original path towards Rachel's car – which she had borrowed today since they knew she would be home pretty late. Brendon had picked Rachel up after school. Quinn was alone.

When she got to her driver's side door, she dropped her duffel bag to the ground. Turning around, she leaned against the car and slid slowly to join her bag on the pavement. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them – but not before using her right hand to wipe at some yolk to keep it out of her eyes.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she suddenly struggled to breathe. And before she even realized what was happening, she was sobbing like a child. A small, broken, lonely child. She felt her bag vibrating next to her. A phone call. But she ignored it. Instead, she chose to wallow in self-pity, even for just a few precious moments before she had to face the real world again. _Who am I? What did I do to deserve this torment from Jesse and parents who don't love me, the person who I am? …Who am I, really?_ The question pounded over and over again inside her skull. And as the minutes passed, she cried harder, realizing that – in that moment – she just didn't know. 


	43. Hiding My Heart

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Shelby sat down with her hot tea at a small table by the window. She crossed her legs and took a sip of her drink. The liquid burned a soothing path down her throat. She closed her eyes as she tasted it, and then sat the cup down on the table. Reaching down by her side, she lifted her purse into her lap and pulled out the book she was currently reading. She placed the book on the table next to her drink.

And then there – underneath her fingertips and her cup and her book – she examined the tabletop. It was scratched and marred with blemishes. There were names and words engraved on the surface. It was rough and old and tarnished. And yet, it was oddly comforting.

She picked up her tea and took another sip, replacing it on the table and picking up her book. She ran her finger down the edge of the book, pulling the pages open to her bookmark.

Just a few minutes later, the little bell over the door jingled brightly. The cool breeze that had been blowing by past the tiny coffee shop managed to find its way into the room, and it whipped a few strands of Shelby's hair into her face. Her fingers deftly tucked the hair back in place behind her hair as she looked up from her book, marking her spot with the tip of her finger.

A smile started to spread across her lips as she noticed the bubbling, charming figure of Holly Holiday placing her order at the counter. A chuckle escaped Shelby's lips as she saw Holly blatantly flirt with the barista with a saucy wink. The man with whom Holly was flirting smiled good-naturedly before starting to make her drink. Shelby's chuckle had apparently carried across the expanse of the shop and caught Holly's ear, as the blonde woman proceeded to turn her head in Shelby's direction after just a few moments had passed. She smiled and waved. Shelby waved back before she resumed reading.

Finally, Holly took her place in the seat next to Shelby, crossing her legs and leaning back as she took a long draw on her steaming cup of coffee. Shelby replaced her bookmark and lowered her book back to the table before taking a sip of her own drink – which had cooled considerably – while wondering how on earth Holly was able to consume her scalding-hot drink so effortlessly. They swallowed their drinks in companionable silence as their greetings were postponed momentarily.

"It's good to see you," Shelby eventually said, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes tracing the features of Holly's face.

"You too," Holly said. And Shelby marveled at the simplicity of the other woman's reply – and how, even in its simplicity, Shelby was able to feel as if she were the most important person in Holly's world. Perhaps, in that moment, she was.

"How have you been?" Shelby asked.

Holly's eyes twinkled. Because she knew that Shelby already knew the answer. It was always the same. "I've been absolutely _fabulous_." And it always led to the question that really needed to be asked anyway. "How have _you_ been?"

And Shelby took a few moments to distract herself – fidgeting with her hands in her lap, on the cover of her book, picking up her drink and taking another sip – because this question was always _so_ hard to answer. Because her answer was always the same, and there was something indescribably _sad_ about that. "I've been better," she finally uttered the words that seemed to define her existence.

Holly just nodded in understanding. The same old song and dance. "Tell me," she said. And it wasn't a suggestion, it was a command. Both women knew it.

"For someone I've literally _never_ come in contact with, I feel this inexplicable _pull_ towards her. I had to use Jesse to get in contact with her in the first place. I had to watch her perform in the shadows. I had to hear about her recovery from afar. I've never said a word to her, Holly, and it kills me every single day. And still, I'll take that silence over the possibility of meeting her and talking to her and being _rejected_ by her – because I know how easy it would be for her to reject me." Her eyes were getting wetter and wetter by the sentence, but she refused to let her tears fall. "It would be easy because I can put myself in her shoes – and I can realize how simple it would be for her to think of my giving her up as rejection. Even though, in my mind, that's never what it was. It was _never_ rejection." She pressed the back of her hand against her lips before continuing. "It was me being a scared little girl who wanted to make it big in New York. I would have done anything – and I _did_. And when it came time for me to give her up, I did it. And I left." She covered her face with both of her hands. "And that's the hardest part about all of this, you know?" She lowered her hands, gesturing imploringly in Holly's direction, begging her to understand. "She has no reason to want to have anything to do with me, anything at all."

Shelby fell silent, and Holly's lips turned upward into a small, comforting smile. "Sweetie," she said, reaching out and covering one of Shelby's hands with her own warmer one. "Rachel is a really incredible young woman. Of course you feel a pull towards her – she's your _daughter_. And you are her _mother_. Nothing in the world can change that." She continued rubbing soothing circles on the back of Shelby's hand. "But you've made contact with her now – whether she's reciprocated that contact or not, the line has been opened. She went sixteen years of her life without having any idea who her mother was. But in that time, she had two _amazing _parents to take care of her, to teach her, to help her grow. It can't be easy, to think of another parental figure coming into the picture – especially not when she's about to become a parent herself. You have to give her time."

Shelby sighed and focused on the feel of Holly's hand on top of hers. "I'm trying," she said. "I'm trying to give her time."

"That's all you _can_ do."

Shelby took a long swig of her green tea. She sat the cup back down on the table, but wrapped both of her hands around it, desperately attempting to draw some warmth into her fingertips from the liquid inside. Silence surrounded them, but it was a comforting silence – Holly tended to have that effect. "I want a baby," Shelby finally said, and the words seemed to hang in the air between them.

"I know you do," Holly replied. This caused Shelby's eyes to dart instantly to the other woman – who was staring right back at her with an intense look in her own eyes. Shelby was confused because the insecurity she had just voiced out loud had only been spoken to herself in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind – _who am I to want a second chance at motherhood when I feel as if I have already completely squandered my chance at it the first time around?_

"But I can't have any more children. There were complications a few years ago and then surgery… It's like I'm this useless vessel incapable of creating my own family. Now that I'm to a place in my life where I could actually handle it emotionally and financially, I can't do it, _physically_. It breaks my heart that I've lost my opportunity with Rachel, and I can't even have the same opportunity ever again in my life. It's left this gaping hole in my chest, and I feel lost."

There were a lot of times throughout Holly's life where she didn't think about the consequences of her actions. She was prone to leap before she had really turned her head from side to side and taken a good hard look at the situation. When she was eighteen, she had joined the circus – her time with the troupe hadn't lasted particularly long, nor had it been particularly fruitful, but she had done it anyway. When she was barely twenty years old, she had offered her body as a surrogate to the Berrys – it hadn't really bothered her that they had gone in a different direction since she had decided to go to college instead as a result. At twenty-one (with only two semesters of college under her belt), she had dropped out of school and started traveling – place to place, state to state, job to job. Over the past decade, she had gone through stints as an ice-road trucker in Canada, a Vegas showgirl, she had spent time as a prison warden, and she had finally found peace in the state of Ohio. Because, really, it had always been her home. And she had started working as a substitute in whatever towns she would find herself in. And there was an oddly comforting sense of accomplishment at the end of each and every day.

Yet she still had that tendency to avoid consequences – even the mere _thought_ of consequences. But now, sitting next to Shelby and observing her brokenness and her vulnerability, Holly really _did_ think about the consequences. She weighed them lightly in the palms of her proverbial hands, juggling them back and forth, before coming to a decision. And when she opened her mouth to speak, she had never been more certain of anything in her life.

"Maybe it's not too late for you to have a family. Maybe I can help you."

* * *

Rachel had finished her homework – _all _of it. Well, all of it except her calculus. But normally Quinn helped her with her calculus. And yet, Quinn wasn't home.

Rachel walked over to her bed where she had tossed her cell phone when she got home. Picking it up, she flipped it open – expecting to see a text or a missed call or _something_ that could explain Quinn's absence. And when there was nothing, Rachel's heart began pounding hard in her chest. It just wasn't normal for Quinn to not check in – _no,_ Rachel corrected herself in her mind, _it just wasn't normal for Quinn to not be home by now_.

She didn't want to seem like the over-protective, worrisome girlfriend. But she also didn't want to regret _not_ calling to check on Quinn. So she hit the designated button for Quinn's cell phone, and she waited.

* * *

It was just beginning to become dark outside. But Quinn had been staring at the clouds rolling by, and she had gotten distracted. It was such a beautiful day. And yet there Quinn was – sitting and moping and not even bothering to wipe at the sticky egg dripping off of her.

Her phone began to vibrate – _again_ – and she automatically ignored it. A few moments later, the tone indicating a new voicemail chirped at her. Sighing, she reluctantly hit the button to call her voicemail and brought the phone to her ear.

As Santana's voice filled her eardrum, she cringed. Hailey Robertson had called Brittany a 'dumb blonde' during practice earlier that afternoon. And Quinn had held Santana back from beating the unthinking girl senseless. And now here was Santana in Quinn's ear, berating her. Just what she needed.

'_Listen, __**Fabray**__' _Santana had sneered across the line as she left the message. _'Robertson is __**not**__ going to get away with her loose comments so easily. And __**you**__ are not getting away with holding me back. When I call you back, you better answer this time!'_

Quinn sighed, deleting the message. The next message began to play.

'_Seriously Fabray, what are you getting at? Answer your phone, or __**your**__ ass is going on my list of asses to kick.'_

Delete.

'_Q_,' Santana sighed heavily. _'This isn't funny. Call me back. I'm not happy.'_

Before the message ended, Quinn heard Brittany's voice in the background, most likely attempting to sooth the irate girl. Delete.

'_Alright, so maybe I overreacted. But listen – they have to know they can't get away with saying shit like that to Brittany._' Again, Quinn heard Brittany's light voice in the background. _'They can't get away with saying that to __**anyone**__. There, happy?'_

The message ended, and Quinn knew that last comment hadn't strictly been for Quinn's ears. She smiled in spite of her terrible mood and deleted the message.

The next message began to play, and Quinn's heart fell when she heard Rachel's concerned voice.

'_Quinn, where are you? I'm getting worried. It's awfully late, and it's going to be dark out soon. Please call me so I know you're ok_.'

Quinn felt bad, she really did. But she just deleted the message and moved on to the next.

'_Ok listen Q – this is ridiculous. Your hobbit just called me and – OUCH! What was that for?'_ Apparently Brittany didn't approve of the nickname for Rachel. '_Anyway, where are you? Rachel is worried. Which, honestly, isn't that unusual. But you've been ignoring me all afternoon. Call __**someone**__ or else I'm coming to find you myself._'

Quinn deleted the message and rested her phone back on her duffel bag. She took a deep breath and attempted to clear her mind. Because her mind was still full of nasty, self-deprecating thoughts. And when she called her girlfriend, she didn't want those thoughts to diffuse into their conversation. Finally, with a deep breath, Quinn stood. She pushed the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder and headed back towards the school, dialing Rachel's cell phone number as she went.

When Rachel's frantic voice spilled over the line, Quinn had to suppress her tears – she really hadn't meant to upset the other girl. "_Quinn!"_ she exclaimed. "_Where are you? Are you ok? Santana said you've been ignoring her calls for hours now. She's worried, though I know she would never admit it –"_

"I'm at school, Rach. I'm walking towards the Cheerios' locker room right now." Quinn knew it wasn't enough information for Rachel to be satisfied. But she crossed her index and middle fingers of her left hand anyway.

"_What?" _There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Quinn refused to fill the silence with an answer to the supposedly rhetorical question. "_Didn't practice end hours ago? Why are you taking a shower now?_"

Quinn took a deep breath. She couldn't lie to Rachel. She wasn't sure that she knew how. "There may have been an incident in the parking lot. Involving Vocal Adrenaline."

She heard the angry gasp on the other end of the line and cringed. "_What? I can't believe them. What did they do?"_ Rachel didn't give Quinn time to answer. _"Never mind that question, you'll answer it soon enough. I'm on my way there right now. I'll drive Daddy's car. I'll see you in a few minutes."_

Quinn was going to say Rachel's name. She was going to say '_Rach, I love you. Drive safe. I'll see you soon_,' but the line was dead before she had time to open her mouth.

The walk to the locker room didn't really take that long. Or maybe it did, and Quinn just didn't notice. But when she arrived, she was alone. Coach's office was dark, and Sue was always the last to leave. So Quinn knew she was completely by herself.

Dropping her duffel bag on the bench in front of her locker, Quinn began stripping off her uniform. In a matter of seconds, she was standing stark naked in the changing room, looking down at the mess near her feet. The eggs smelled awful – they were coating every inch of Quinn's uniform. And the stench hung heavily near her nose, reminding Quinn that the eggs were also in her hair. Before she had time to do anything else, she had to run to one of the stalls.

Throwing the door open, Quinn immediately fell to her knees and released the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Her diaphragm heaved uncomfortably as the tears began to fall again. With shaking hands, she flushed the toilet and forced herself onto her unsteady feet. She stumbled into one of the shower stalls, immediately turning the knobs until scalding hot water was beating down on her body. She cupped her hands and scooped some of the water into her mouth, rinsing out the disgusting taste of bile.

Their laughing, sneering faces kept looming up in her head. She felt the hard shells of the eggs impacting her body over and over. The thought that she herself had actually stood by and laughed – _laughed_ – as her fellow students were slushied in the hallways was overwhelming enough to almost cause her to retch again. But she didn't. Instead, she placed her back against the cold tiles and allowed her body to slide to the floor just as she had outside onto the pavement. The hot water was still pelting her relentlessly, and Quinn welcomed it as her tears were effortlessly hidden and washed away down the drain.

* * *

Rachel practically parked on the sidewalk of the entrance leading up to the school. She moved – as fast as any woman in her eighth month of pregnancy could move – through the school and towards the locker rooms. She burst into the room where she knew Quinn had gone to shower – though what had happened to cause Quinn to need to shower, Rachel hadn't the slightest idea.

Immediately, Rachel's eyes fell on Quinn's duffel. And there on the floor was the girl's cheerleading uniform. Rachel hurried over and bent down to pick it up – and was appalled to see that it was covered in some kind of sticky goo. Bringing the garment to her face, Rachel sniffed. "_Eggs_?" she whispered harshly to herself. More confused than ever, Rachel hurried to the shower stalls.

And when Rachel rounded the corner of one of the stalls and saw Quinn huddled on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees and water swirling around her towards the drain, she nearly lost it. Her heart may have literally just broken slightly in her chest.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel muttered to herself, rushing forward and lowering herself to sit next to Quinn as best as she could. She immediately wrapped her arms around Quinn's shoulders and pulled the girl into her, stroking her cheek with her fingertips and placing kisses on her forehead. "Baby, I'm here. It's ok." And the only evidence Rachel had that Quinn _wasn't_ ok was the slight shaking of her body as she silently sobbed and the broken, hollow expression on her face.

Ignoring the fact that she herself was still fully clothed, Rachel eventually pulled Quinn to her feet. She reached towards the stall's shampoo and conditioner, gently massaging Quinn's scalp as she washed the mess from her beautiful hair. Quinn's eyes drifted closed at the soothing touch, and her hands reached forward to steady herself, finding a firm grip on Rachel's hips.

When she was done, Rachel reached around Quinn to turn off the water – which was still surprisingly _very _hot (though Rachel assumed this had something to do with Coach Sylvester's incredibly high standards in all aspects of her life as well as the lives of her Cheerios). Once the water was off, an invisible barrier seemed to fall and Quinn's eyes immediately sought out Rachel's.

"You're soaking wet," Quinn said softly.

Rachel nodded. "So are you."

Quinn practically fell forward against the shorter girl, wrapping her arms around Rachel's shoulders and holding her as tightly as she possibly could. Rachel reciprocated the embrace, running one hand up and down Quinn's back and the other over the back of Quinn's head, holding the distraught girl in place.

"We should get you dressed," Rachel murmured against Quinn's neck. "You're going to be freezing once the cold air hits you. Besides, I can hardly resist you when you're fully clothed – let alone entirely naked and dripping wet and pressed against me."

Quinn didn't laugh – but she did grin. And she pulled back and looked Rachel in the eyes, and she asked, "Is it going to be ok?"

And Rachel's heart nearly broke yet again at the vulnerability and the sheer volume of sadness currently being expressed in Quinn's previously-vacant hazel eyes. She still didn't know exactly what had happened – though she had a general idea at this point – and despite that, she found herself beyond infuriated at Vocal Adrenaline for having done whatever it was that they had done to her girlfriend. She was mad and upset and incredibly vengeful in that moment. But Quinn was standing in front of her with sad eyes and a defeated posture in her shoulders – and Rachel knew that, no matter what, she would do whatever it took to make Quinn _better_.

"It's absolutely going to be ok, baby girl." Rachel said it only because she knew it was true – because she would _make it _true. And with their arms still wrapped around each other, they walked back out into the locker room – ready to face the situation, together. 


	44. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"When you were a child, what did you dream of becoming when you grew up?"

Rachel's voice traveled the few inches from her lips to Quinn's ear, and the smallest trace of a reminiscent smile graced Quinn's own lips as a result.

"A photographer."

The girls were each propped up next to each other against one of the sets of lockers in the room. They had changed into dry clothes – Quinn was wearing some windpants that crinkled quietly in the stillness of the room with her every movement and a WMHS shirt, while Rachel was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and grey sweats. Quinn was sitting in what had become a familiar position – her knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs – while Rachel sat with her legs fully extended, ankles crossed.

Rachel grinned, tilting her head to look in Quinn's direction. "Really?" she questioned. Quinn only nodded in response. "I think someone needs a camera then."

Quinn's eyes closed heavily as she remembered that she had once asked for a camera from her father. He had scoffed when he found out she wanted to be a _photographer_, of all things, and had thusly informed her that she shouldn't waste her time with such nonsense. He had been drunk, but Quinn had been young and impressionable. So she had never asked for a camera again. "Maybe a choreographer or something…" And as the words left Quinn's lips, she thought that maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

Rachel noticed the heaviness that descended upon Quinn's frame and realized that it was time to change the subject. "You know, I should text Santana. It's been a while and, frankly, I'm surprised she hasn't blown up our phones yet."

"Good idea," Quinn replied, reaching towards the bench in front of them and grabbing Rachel's cell phone. She leaned back and placed the phone in Rachel's waiting hand. But before letting go, she wrapped her hand entirely around Rachel's and held her in place. "You're everything," she breathed out. Rachel's eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak. "I just," Quinn interrupted her, "wanted you to know. In case I don't remind you enough."

Rachel used her free hand to wrap around Quinn's neck and pull the girl closer, kissing her soundly. Pulling back, Rachel let her words rush directly from her mouth to Quinn's. "Regardless of what Jesse said, you have to promise me not to let him get to you. I'm here now, sweetheart, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm _yours_, I can promise you that with all that I am. I got drunk once in my life, and I slept with that inconsiderate, pompous _bastard_ – I never gave him any reason to suspect that I would choose him over you, I hope you know that. It's you, it was always you."

Quinn leaned her forehead against Rachel's and squeezed her eyes shut. This, _this_, is what Quinn had been waiting for – it seemed silly of her now, to have questioned Rachel or herself or their relationship for even a second. But when she was alone and haunting slow-motion laughter was filling her ears and Jesse's demoralizing words were echoing over and over in her mind, it was easy to wonder and to question and to doubt. And yes, she had suffered at the hands of people who were supposed to love and protect her – but now they were locked away. And here was Rachel – real and solid and true, sitting next to her on the cool locker room floor for no other reason than because Quinn _needed her_.

"I love you, Rachel," Quinn said as a solitary tear dripped down her cheek and onto Rachel's shirt. "I would be so lost without you."

Rachel responded with another soft, lingering kiss before pulling back ever so slightly. She traced her finger down the side of Quinn's face, wiping gently at the tear track. "No more tears, Quinn. Not over him." Quinn sighed quietly and then closed her lips in a gesture of finality, nodding her head once. Rachel smiled before finally turning to her phone to text Santana a brief update on the situation.

**Rachel:** Quinn is going to be alright. But Jesse and all of VA egg'd her in the school parking lot, and he said some awful things. Before you consider any plans for revenge, please fill me in – you better believe that I want to be involved.

Rachel lowered her phone to her lap and leaned back against the lockers again, glancing sideways at Quinn. "Would you like to head home now?"

Quinn rested her head on her thighs, opening her eyes slowly to look at her girlfriend. A soft grin emerged and she asked, "Do you think we could stay here? Just for a little while longer?"

Rachel wrapped her arm around Quinn's shoulders, pulling the girl slightly against her side so that Quinn could rest her head in the crook of Rachel's own shoulder. They settled down comfortably, and Rachel said, "Of course," while stroking Quinn's hair away from her face and placing delicate kisses on top of her head.

* * *

Santana was sitting on Brittany's couch. They were watching MTV, and if Santana was honest with herself, she was getting restless. But only because she was internally freaking out about Quinn – she didn't know what had happened, she didn't know if she was ok. All she knew was that Rachel had finally gotten in touch with her and gone to the high school to get her.

The only thing that was keeping Santana from going to the school herself was the fact that Brittany was stretched out on the couch with her head in Santana's lap. And it had been this way for at least an hour now. And there was no way in hell Santana was moving.

She continued to gently pull her fingers through Brittany's long, blonde hair, scratching lightly at the girl's scalp as she went. Santana was almost completely certain that she had put the other girl to sleep by now, but she most definitely wasn't going to stop touching her.

Her phone chirped, indicating a text message. She hastily moved her free hand to pick it up, unlocking it and reading the message from Rachel as fast as she could. And then her blood ran cold in her veins, realization sinking in and causing red hot fury to flare up in its place. She read the message again, just to confirm the horror.

Her hand had stopped moving, and Brittany's eyelids fluttered opened slowly. She turned onto her back and looked up at Santana, clutching at the girl's hand that had been caressing her. "'Ana?" she asked sleepily. "What's wrong?"

Santana looked down at the girl in her lap. "Something happened to Quinn," she replied.

"What?" Brittany asked worriedly, sitting up fully now. "Where is she?"

"She's with Rachel at school. Apparently Jesse St. Douchebag and his Vocal Adrenaline cronies decided to _egg her_ in the parking lot after practice today." Santana mentally cursed herself for not staying behind to help Quinn after practice had officially finished. "I'm going to _kill_ him."

"No," Brittany said softly, causing Santana's eyes to dart from where they had blankly been staring at the coffee table to Brittany's eyes instead. "You're not going to kill him," she reiterated. "We're just going to get even."

Brittany's opposition to Santana's attempted homicide momentarily threw the girl for a loop – but when the dust settled, she realized that Brittany was an absolute-freaking-genius. Because now Santana's mind had been cleared – she could think calmly and rationally. She quickly kissed Brittany twice on the cheek before turning back to her cell phone and dialing the first number on her mental list.

* * *

The girls were still sitting in the locker room. "Do you think I should call Santana?" Rachel asked. "I'm a little worried that she hasn't replied to my text yet. There's no telling what she's getting up to…"

Quinn just grinned against the soft fabric of the sweatshirt Rachel was wearing. "No," she replied. Really, Quinn knew exactly what was going on. Santana would never let Jesse and Vocal Adrenaline get away with what they had done. Quinn knew that the girl was probably already enacting a carefully crafted and meticulous plan for the destruction and humiliation of the other glee club. And Quinn was perfectly content to sit with Rachel – and keep the pregnant girl from getting involved in a scheme that would probably be less than ideal for someone late in their third trimester of pregnancy. "She's a big girl, she'll be alright."

* * *

Kurt's basement had become the headquarters for Operation: Payback.

"Artie, how's that list of addresses coming?"

"I almost have every address of every member of Vocal Adrenaline who received a Range Rover from their booster club, Santana. Just a couple more minutes, and it should be complete."

"Excellent," Santana replied from her position behind Artie's chair. "Kurt, did you get the stuff?"

Kurt held up several bottles at arms' length in front of him, the labels of which had been removed. However, there were clearly two different types of bottles. "Should be enough and more for our purposes." He eyed the bottles dubiously.

"Fantastic. Finn, Puck, Mike, Matt – do you have the masks?"

Puck pulled his own black ski mask down over his face, throwing up his hands in a 'rock on' gesture. Mike answered for him, "Yes, we have enough for everyone. Gloves, too."

"Yeah, ok…" She arched her eyebrow questioningly in Puck's direction, wondering how she had ever slept with such a moron. "Mercedes, Tina, Brittany – how about Sub-Operation: Alibi?"

"Everything is good to go," Tina said.

"Yeah, the party is gonna be _awesome!_" Brittany added. "Well," she shrugged thoughtfully. "It would be awesome if more people were _actually _gonna be there…"

Santana grinned before saying, "That's perfect. The more awesome it is, the more realistic and therefore plausible it'll be that we would all be there instead of out exacting some dire revenge on the idiots who comprise that band of singing fools."

Brittany smiled brightly at Santana, bounding over to her and wrapping the girl up in a tight hug. "You're amazing for doing all of this."

Santana tried not to blush. "We're _all_ doing it. For Quinn."

* * *

Quinn and Rachel were walking hand-in-hand out to the parking lot. The night breeze was cool, and Rachel was thankful for the heavy garments Quinn had found for her to wear. Rachel had her arm wrapped around Quinn's waist as they walked together, Quinn's arm hugging Rachel tightly around her shoulders.

"We kind of fit together," Rachel noted.

"Only kind of?" Quinn replied questioningly.

Rachel leaned further against her girlfriend. "Ok, more than just 'kind of.'"

Quinn opened the passenger side door of Brendon's car for Rachel, helping her inside. She then hurried around to the driver's side and climbed in, quickly starting the car and turning the heater on slightly. Rachel called her dads and asked if they wanted the girls to pick up something for dinner. Apparently Marcus had – _gasp_ – actually cooked that night, so dinner would be waiting when they got home. '_Drive safe_,' had floated across the line, loud enough for Quinn to hear. She squeezed Rachel's hand in response, the unspoken promise that Rachel was her most precious cargo passing between them.

Quinn turned off of the main road and passed a familiar car that was just pulling out onto the same road. "Oh my gosh!" Rachel gasped. Quinn's eyes widened and she turned her head slightly in Rachel's direction, but the girl was straining to look over her shoulder. "That was Finn's car!" Rachel said, appalled, in response, turning back to look ahead. "There must have been five people shoved in there. Oh, _Santana_! She must have planned something after all, and she didn't tell me!" The irate diva was already dialing Santana's number on her cell phone before Quinn could even attempt to calm her down.

"Santana!" There was a mumbled response on the other end of the line. "What is going on? I just saw Finn and what looked like half of New Directions pulling out of our neighborhood. I thought that I told you I wanted in on anything that –" she was interrupted. Quinn strained to listen as Santana quietly explained the situation to Rachel. "Oh," Rachel replied. "Oh, I see. Alright well, Quinn and I will head over to Tina's after dinner. Alright, yes. Very good. Please be safe, Santana. Bye."

Quinn arched her eyebrow, confused by Rachel's change in demeanor. "What just happened?" she questioned as she pulled onto the Berrys' street.

"Santana and I have come to an agreement of sorts, I guess you could say." Quinn chuckled to herself at Rachel's vagueness. "Anyway, they're definitely on their way to Carmel. But Santana said there is an 'alibi party' or something of that nature at Tina's. So I told her we would go there after dinner. Besides, there are only a few days left until Regionals – it wouldn't hurt for some last minute bonding time. And we can discuss our choreography, work out any kinks, you know?"

"Sure Rach, that sounds great." The smile that covered Quinn's face was genuine, and the kiss she placed on Rachel's knuckles was a fleeting attempt to convey all of her love. When Rachel turned shining eyes of adoration on her, Quinn thought that maybe – just maybe – she had been successful.

* * *

The next day at school, Rachel immediately noticed that Kurt, Artie, Puck, Finn, Mike, Matt, and Santana all looked incredibly tired. But overlaying their tiredness was a shining gleam of _triumph_.

By mid-morning, Mr. Schuester had been called into Principal Figgins' office. There were accusations floating around that acts of vandalism had been directed towards members of Vocal Adrenaline, and that these acts had been perpetrated by New Directions. That day after school, Mr. Schuester stood in front of his kids with a stern look on his face and his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Guys…" he began. Everyone continued to stare at him, wide-eyed and innocent. "I'm not sure that I got _all_ of the details, but I heard enough to seriously question whether or not you all are completely depraved."

"What on _earth_ are you getting at, Mr. Schue?" Mercedes questioned. "We had a party last night at Tina's."

"Yeah," Kurt emphasized. "We had some 'bonding time,' as Rachel so loves to call it."

"There was Twister. And Scrabble," Quinn said.

"It's true, Mr. Schuester. Would I lie to you? I'm _pregnant_, after all."

Mr. Schuester wasn't entirely sure how Rachel's pregnancy impacted her ability to lie or not, but he lacked the willpower to question it. He held his hands up to stop the flow of objections to being accused. "Alright, alright. So you're all promising me that you weren't involved?"

Artie held up his right hand. "Scout's honor!"

"Yeah, what he said," Puck held up his left hand in an imitation of Artie. Finn corrected him, forcing his left hand down and his right hand up.

Mr. Schuester looked around at each of their faces. He could see that they were presenting him with a united front – but he had heard what had happened to Quinn Fabray, and he wasn't too keen to push them to confess. "Alright guys – you know that I'll always be in your corner, right?" There were nods all around the room, acknowledgments of his love and dedication to his students. "Ok, now that that's settled," he clapped his hands together (familiar, comforting), "let's finish polishing our show for Regionals!"

They all headed towards the auditorium, and each time anyone caught the eye of another one of their teammates, secret smiles and winks and nods of brotherhood and sisterhood and all things _familial _passed between them. Quinn held Rachel's fingers tightly between her own, comforted by her girlfriend's mere presence and the knowledge that this group – New Directions – was more of a family to her than her own family had ever been.

_We have to win Regionals,_ Quinn thought, _or else New Directions is going to be history._ And it wasn't just the glee club at risk – it was their _family_ that was in jeopardy. 


	45. Sigh No More

_Love - it will not betray you,  
Dismay or enslave you,  
It will set you free.  
Be more like the man  
You were made to be.  
There is a design,  
An alignment to cry,  
Of my heart to see,  
The beauty of love as it was made to be.  
_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

New Directions had just finished their one and only full-blown dress rehearsal for Regionals. The competition was a mere two days away, Saturday. The last notes of their newest – and most _awesome_ – arrangement of _Don't Stop Believing_ rang out through the auditorium, each glee club member's right arm raised towards the rafters. It was chilling and beautiful and they all felt unstoppable.

Mr. Schuester definitely had goosebumps as he rose from his chair, clapping his hands and smiling like he was never going to be allowed to smile again in his life. "Brilliant!" he called out to his students. "It was perfect, you guys!"

And everyone proceeded to jump around (while avoiding jostling the _very_ pregnant Rachel) and hug and cheer and pat each other on the back, preemptively congratulating themselves and each other. Because they knew that they were going to have tough competition on Saturday and even tougher judges. But they also knew that they were a _team_ – and it had only taken them eight and a half months to figure it out.

Later that evening, Santana fell down onto her bed, pulling Brittany along with her.

"Glee practice was really fun today," Brittany said. "I love our dresses."

Santana smiled, allowing her hands to run up and down over the smooth skin of Brittany's back underneath her shirt. "You were beautiful." Brittany giggled and rolled on top of Santana, leaning down and kissing her soundly on the lips. After a few moments of mind-blowingly awesome makeoutage, Brittany pulled back and lightly touched her nose to Santana's before pressing their foreheads together. "We were awesome together today. Like, we seriously sounded like an honest-to-god _glee club_, you know?"

Brittany smiled. "I know, it was kind of perfect." A sudden frown fell over Brittany's features. Santana's fingers immediately moved to her face, attempting to smooth out Brittany's ever-so-slightly wrinkled forehead. "I don't want glee club to be over, San…"

"I know, Brit. Neither do I. We'll just have to be as spectacular on Saturday as we were today."

Santana leaned forward and sought out Brittany's lips with her own again. She rolled them over so that she was now holding herself up above the other girl. Brittany wrapped both of her arms lazily around Santana's neck and proceeded to look as if she hadn't a care in the world (though perhaps it was true). For a moment, Santana was afraid that she wouldn't be able to speak – that her words were going to become lodged in her throat and she was going to choke to death. And there was something distinctly _un_romantic about that. So she counted to three in her head, took a deep breath, and said, "Brittany Susan, I am in love with you."

Slowly – but inevitably – a smile spread across Brittany's face. Santana felt like her heart was going to burst, it was beating so uncontrollably fast. She had said it before. She had said _'I love you, Brit_' or _'I'll talk to you later, love you'_ or '_you're so awesome B, I love you._' But she had never said that she was _in love_ with the other girl, and they both knew it. It had never been something that Brittany would force Santana to say – that just wasn't Brittany S. Pierce. But now that it was there – hanging in the space in front of Santana's lips and above Brittany's beautiful, unassuming face – Santana couldn't do anything except wait.

She wasn't disappointed. Brittany finally squealed like a small child, launching herself forward and hugging Santana around the neck. "I've been in love with you since I was six!" And then they laughed and Santana cried tears of joy (that she would later deny) and they kissed and it was beautiful and perfect.

* * *

Rachel's parents were easy to convince. All it took was a carefully inserted '_I'm already pregnant, what's the worst that could happen?_' and a '_Quinn just really has this strange urge to play Twister, who am I to deny her that basic pleasure?_' and then Brendon was chuckling and Marcus was pursing his lips while looking more than slightly confused. And they found themselves saying '_Sure, Rachel – you can have the entire glee club over tomorrow night_.' And then Rachel had them sign a contract – which neither of them bothered to read. But Rachel was right, after all – how much trouble could their pregnant daughter get into at a sleepover of _glee kids_ in their own home?

When Santana heard that Rachel was inviting all of New Directions to her house to sleepover the night before Regionals, her first instinct was to grab Brittany and ditch school so that her blonde counterpart wouldn't even have the option of agreeing – because Santana knew Brittany would agree (probably on the spot). Sure, Santana had slept over at Rachel's house once before – but it was the promise of a night spent uninterrupted in a bed with Brittany, and she _was_ only human. So the idea of a _sleepover_? With the entire _glee club_? They had all gotten closer, there was no denying that – but _that _level of 'bonding time' was something Santana could most certainly live without.

Santana tried to run interference, she really did – but as she careened around the corner into the last possible hallway that Brittany could be in, she was forced to slide to a mortified stop as she took in the sight in front of her. Brittany was jumping up and down, clapping her hands – and there stood Rachel Freaking Berry, smiling brightly and chatting animatedly with Santana's woman. All Santana could do was sigh in defeat.

_It looks like I'm spending the night with the Berrys_… Her voice was dull and monotonous, even in her head. Then her mind suddenly shifted gears, remembering the four poster bed she and Brittany had shared months ago and her eyes glazed over. And then she perked up, her eyes widening in excitement. _Maybe I can get Brittany alone in that guest room again… _

* * *

"Do you think Quinn and Rachel are gonna get married someday?" Brittany's question was quietly spoken, but Santana heard it clearly over the soft music playing through the sound system in her car. They were driving towards Rachel's house for the sleepover that evening.

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, and when she spoke, she knew she was right. "Quinn knows what it feels like to almost lose Rachel forever." Brittany's fingers were laced with her own, and she caressed the back of the blonde's hand with her thumb. "Marriage? I don't know. But I do know that she never wants to feel that way again."

* * *

Quinn tried not to be surprised when Santana and Brittany showed up. In all actuality, she wasn't necessarily surprised that _they_ had decided to come – Quinn knew that Brittany would never turn down the chance to go to a party (even a PG-rated party) or to spend time with Rachel – she was just surprised that Santana and Brittany showing up made their party a party of twelve. Twelve kids. All of New Directions.

Every single glee club member had come to spend the night at Rachel's, to '_partake in gleeful activities,'_ as Rachel had officially dubbed them. And yes, Quinn tried not to be surprised – they had, after all, shown her immense support and love over the past few days. But sitting in Rachel's basement with light music playing, two games of Twister going, delicious finger foods (prepared by Brendon specially for the occasion), and watching Rachel play the perfect host – Quinn was kind of super content with her position in life at that moment.

Rachel's fathers had gone out for a nice dinner and movie – effectively giving the teens privacy for most of the evening. They had tried to play it off as their own idea, but Rachel had pretty much highlighted and circled and blatantly pointed out that they were required to be out of the house for at least four hours as dictated by her meticulously drawn out contract.

"Ahhh, come on, Rach. Just let me break into your dads' liquor cabinet! I promise to replace it right after Regionals."

"Noah Puckerman! I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing. We have an intense competition tomorrow – can you imagine how foolish we would look if we were attempting to look _gleeful_ onstage with raging hangovers? Needless to say, I can imagine that the judges would be far from impressed."

"So…" Noah trailed off, arching his eyebrows and contemplating whether or not the next words should actually leave his lips. They did. "You're saying you would totally be fine with us getting smashed… If we didn't have a competition the next day?" Rachel opened her mouth to begin berating him again, but he held up his hands defensively. "Whoa whoa! Just, hypothetically speaking –"

Quinn laughed softly under her breath from the couch, amused with their interaction. She looked around the room, again taking in her surroundings. Tina and Mike were completely dominating at Twister on one mat. Santana and Brittany were the only two left on the other mat – but they had clearly given up actually trying to play the game, instead choosing to twist themselves into their own _creative _positions (primarily, making out upside down). Artie and Matt were watching them, completely transfixed and drooling. Quinn rolled her eyes. Kurt and Mercedes were busying themselves off to one side, going through Brendon's extensive album collection.

And then Quinn's eyes caught Finn's. He was sitting at the bar, sipping on a soda. He smiled hesitantly at her, and it only took her a short moment to smile back. She thought about it – hesitated – and then decidedly patted the spot on the sofa next to her. Finn pointed to himself confusedly, and she nodded. He approached, his lanky figure towering over Quinn's small frame briefly before he sat down next to her.

"Hi," Quinn said.

"Hey," Finn replied.

There were some moments then as they sat there on the couch – some moments of awkwardness, maybe moments of reminiscence and memories – and then Quinn finally spoke. "I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you."

Finn took a long drink, swallowing audibly, before turning to look Quinn directly in the eyes. "And I never meant to hurt _you_. But I know why you did it, why you left me. And I get to see you and Rachel together every single day – and it's a huge relief to me, to see you guys so happy. Honest!" he interjected at the slight look of disbelief on Quinn's face. "Like, this huge weight is lifted off of my chest. Because if you had broken up with me for her… No, for _anyone_, and then they had hurt you or treated you awfully, I would've been so mad, Quinn. But you and Rachel, you're good together. We can all see that." He chuckled quietly, almost awkwardly. "Hell, it should probably be _you_ singing _Faithfully_ tomorrow with Rach, not me."

Quinn smiled, bowing her head and looking at her fingers as they traced over the stitching in the jeans she was wearing. "She's adamant on '_preserving the original male vocalist aspect of the song_,'" Quinn recited from memory. And Finn just chuckled quietly from his side of the couch, already knowing Rachel's reasoning as it had been explained to New Directions' members many times before. Quinn raised her eyes slowly and said, "You don't have to be sorry. You saved my life, Finn. From my…" She trailed off, her throat constricting painfully. "From Russell."

Finn had finished his drink, placing the empty can on the floor next to the sofa. He then scooted over and wrapped one of his arms around Quinn's shoulder, holding her tightly. He kissed her forehead softly. "I promise, I would do it again in a heartbeat. For you, for Rachel. We're pretty much a family now – we _all _have to protect each other."

Quinn reached around and hugged Finn across the chest. "You're a really good guy, Finn."

A smile covered his face. It meant a lot to him to hear those words leave her lips. If there was ever a person in the world who could never comprehend how amazingly perfect Quinn Fabray was, it was Quinn Fabray. "You know, we never would have worked out anyway," Finn said, his voice taking on a solemn tone.

Quinn pulled back and looked up into his eyes. "Why do you say that?" She was genuinely curious. They had been the 'it' couple of McKinley High when they were together – Cheerio captain, star quarterback, beautiful faces and cliché romance.

"Our names rhyme," he said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Quinn burst out into laughter, a real smile moving across her lips. "What?" he asked. "It would have been weird. Plus, I honestly can't think of a single mash-up of our names that's appealing in the slightest. It just never would have worked."

Rachel found her way across the room and plopped herself down on the couch on the opposite side of Finn. "Whew," she breathed out, her eyes already closing. "I'm so exhausted." Quinn was still partially on her side with her feet curled up underneath her, pressed against Finn where she had been hugging him moments before. Rachel – eyes still closed – held her hand out over Finn's thigh, and Quinn immediately placed her hand in Rachel's.

"Well, I could get used to this," Finn said with a cute grin on his face, glancing from girl to girl on either side of him.

"Don't get used to it, Hudson," Rachel mumbled tiredly from somewhere in the cushions of the couch. Quinn just laughed and kissed the back of Rachel's hand lovingly.

* * *

It was eleven o'clock when Rachel brought out the air mattresses. The six guys were going to be sleeping in the basement. '_Dibs on the couch!_' Puck had exclaimed, running and diving onto it to prove his point. Tina and Mercedes were sleeping in the living room. Santana and Brittany had claimed the guest room as their own hours ago – Santana had merely glared threateningly at Matt when he had asked who was sleeping there and it was decided. Quinn and Rachel were, naturally, sleeping in their own bed.

The twelve high schoolers stood in the basement before they went their separate ways for the night. Rachel was leaning heavily against Quinn (it _was_ far past her bedtime) when she began to speak. "Guys, thank you all for coming over tonight, I hope you had a good time." Rachel's voice was sleepy and soft, but there were many choruses of '_hell yeah_' and '_we can't wait for the next get-together_' and all kinds of other sappy stuff that was making Rachel blush, despite her exhaustion. "Tomorrow is going to be amazing. And I can't wait to share that with you guys."

And then there was a completely unanticipated group hug – with Rachel in the middle, surrounded by people who (only months before) had tortured her with slushies or ignored her completely or simply gossiped about her pregnancy. And, despite all of their history, she felt beautiful and loved and like she was part of something _incredibly_ special – and that? Well, that made _her_ special. It made them _all_ special.

* * *

_This is not the end.  
Live unbruised, we are friends._

_Sigh no more._


	46. Godspeed

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

"_Thank God for sound-proofed walls," Quinn mumbled heavily against Rachel's lips. Their tongues touched gracefully – battling silently. But it was a battle fated to be victorless – and thus, perfect. And Quinn knew that Rachel was enjoying every moment – every kiss and every touch and every breath shared between lips and behind teeth – because she was expressing herself rather vocally, something Rachel tended to do._

"_Oh God, Quinn," Rachel moaned (loudly). Quinn's hands had been running rampant – up and down Rachel's exposed sides, resting on her baby bump to momentarily feel a reassuring kick – and had just moved down to caress her –_

* * *

When the innocuous beeping of Rachel's iHome broke the silence of the still morning air, Quinn immediately sat bolt upright. _You've gotta be kidding me! _she thought angrily to herself. She roughly ran both of her hands through her loose hair, dragging it back from her face. She sighed heavily. She felt a light scratch against the exposed skin just above the waistband of her pants where her shirt had ridden up. Quickly, she looked down and saw Rachel's hand. Quinn followed the path of skin that looked as soft as it felt (because she knew from experience) all the way up the other girl's arm, her shoulder, her collarbone, her face.

"Did you just… Uhh.." Quinn was at a loss for words. She hadn't had a dream like _that_ in quite a long time – not since she had begun actually _fulfilling_ her fantasies instead of relying on nighttime dreaming to satisfy her need to touch the beautiful girl laying in bed with her now.

Rachel blinked slowly – miraculously hiding the fact that her heart was practically beating out of her chest from the incredibly realistic dream she had just had. "Yes, yes I did." She was proud of her years of vocal training and acting lessons – she was _mostly_ able to hide the waver in her voice.

For exactly two and a half seconds, Quinn weighed her options. _I can go take a shower – a __**cold**__ shower. Or I can go brush my teeth and come back in here and jump my girlfriend's bones. Or I can say, 'fuck it all' and _–

No Contest.

Quinn Fabray completely and totally jumped Rachel Berry's bones. But Rachel was most certainly _not_ complaining.

* * *

"Ok so, logistically speaking, this may not have been a perfectly executed plan."

Rachel and Quinn had been the first ones to wake up – well, besides Brittany and Santana (who got little to no sleep whatsoever). They had showered (together because '_water conservation is very important, Quinn_') and then gone to start making breakfast. It was early – _very _early – because they were supposed to meet Mr. Schuester at the WMHS parking lot by 7:30AM since it was quite the long drive to the site of their competition. So Quinn started cooking bacon and eggs and pancakes while Rachel went to wake everyone else.

And it had only been a few scarce minutes before Rachel had facepalmed dramatically. Because there were now ten other kids who needed to shower and get ready. And there were only two full bathrooms in her house (as evidenced by Mike and Finn dancing around outside one of the doors, '_Come on 'Cedes! I'm about to burst here!'_). Rachel had quickly gone back to her room and jotted down a bathroom schedule in less than two minutes, returning downstairs to give direction to her New Directions.

Within a few minutes, all of the kids were either showering, eating breakfast, fixing their hair, or packing up their garment bags and putting them in the cars out front. Rachel was nothing if not efficient.

Quinn was flipping the last of the pancakes on the stove. Rachel finally made her way into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of her girlfriend. She quickly moved towards her, dropping her notebook onto the kitchen table next to Artie's plate on her way. Reaching her destination, Rachel immediately wrapped her arms as best as she could around Quinn's waist, resting her head in the small of Quinn's back.

"Hi there," Quinn said softly over her shoulder. She felt a soft kick from Colby against her lower back. It was oddly comforting. "Finally get everyone sorted out?"

"Absolutely," Rachel mumbled against Quinn's t-shirt. "Everyone is on schedule. We should be pulling into the parking lot at approximately seven twenty-five, which will leave us five minutes to load everything onto the bus and be on our way."

Quinn grinned. "And you have the Emergency Folder?" She felt Rachel nod against her back. The 'Emergency Folder' was actually the shortened name for the 'Folder Packed Full of Useful Information and Contact Numbers in Case Rachel Goes into Labor Out of Town.' Rachel knew that with only two weeks left until her due date, she was most certainly putting herself into a position in which she could be having Colby away from Lima and thus away from her normal doctor. It was a risk she was willing to take.

"Never fear!" a voice shouted from the entrance of the kitchen. "Puckasaurus is here!"

Santana was sitting at the dining room table nursing a cup of coffee with Brittany on her right-hand side, happily eating a pancake. "Oh joy," she muttered.

Quinn turned back to the stove to make sure she didn't burn the pancake as Rachel moved off to berate Noah for being so noisy so early in the morning. "Some things never change," Quinn chuckled quietly to herself.

* * *

Mr. Schuester really didn't want to be worried. He trusted his kids to show up, honest. But it was 7:24AM and not a single glee club member had shown their face yet. Not even Rachel Berry – and she would certainly not miss the chance to perform (since she had a solo in every single song).

He leaned against the side of the bus. He was tired. He had tossed and turned all night long. His life had been rough lately – dealing with divorce and the fact that his wife had hurt him deeply. And today, he had to face his nemesis of the past several months – Sue. She had weaseled her way onto the judges' panel, and Will was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would do her best to manipulate the other judges into giving New Directions a spectacular last place finish.

But Will – while struggling with the obstacles he and his kids would have to face that day – was also eternally optimistic. They were _golden_ two nights ago at their dress rehearsal – he had almost been moved to tears (read: he had blubbered like a little baby after the kids left). Finn's voice was rich and classic and melded perfectly with Rachel's powerful vocals. Their mash-up of _Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin' _and _Any Way You Want It_ was fun and fresh and the kids looked like they were just having _fun_ up there on stage. And just thinking about the kids singing _Don't Stop Believing _– it brought tears to his eyes and worked his overly emotional heartstrings once or twice over.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Will almost missed the arrival of three cars – packed to the brim with glee kids and garment bags and hair and makeup supplies – in the parking lot. Looking up from his shoelaces, he saw the kids all piling out and heading in the direction of the bus. A smile covered his face, dimples formed. "Hey guys!" he called out to them.

"Good morning, Mr. Schuester," Rachel greeted him warmly. "Here is a copy of my fathers' emergency contact numbers. They were most unceremoniously detained by their respective work places and couldn't make it to the competition today."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Rachel," Will said as he took the list from the girl before she climbed onto the bus.

"Hey Mr. Schue," Artie said as he rolled over to the bus.

"Hey Artie," Will replied. "Let me help you there." He moved forward quickly to lower the handicap lift on the side of the bus. He helped Artie maneuver onto it and then pressed the button for it to haul the kid up. In midair, Artie held his hand up for a high-five, and Will readily complied.

"Your hair looks _fine_, for the last time!" Will turned and looked towards the approaching pair of divas. Apparently Kurt had been complaining about something or other and Mercedes was attempting to calm him. "The more important question is – how does _my_ hair look?"

Will smiled, turning back to the side of the bus and locking the door now that Artie was safely stowed away inside. He made his way to the front of the bus, turning back to take one last sweep of the parking lot before climbing aboard – but there was no redhead there, running towards him to breathlessly wish him good luck and plant a loving kiss on his cheek. So he hung his head – though only briefly – and then took the final few steps inside the bus, the door closing heavily behind him.

He took a brief moment to shake the bus driver's hand and exchange pleasantries before turning to New Directions. Will quickly counted – two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve. He clapped his hands together, excitedly. "Are you guys ready for this?" he asked. He was met with cheers. "Double check before we pull out – do you have _everything_ you need today?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Schue. Rachel is basically ten or eleven steps ahead of you at this point," Quinn said gently.

Will didn't question her, he just smiled and said, "Alright, let's go!"

* * *

It took them three full hours to get to Indianapolis. By the time the bus doors finally opened, Rachel was practically sprinting toward the large civic auditorium in which their competition would be held.

"Do you think she'll make it?" Mike asked nervously.

"Twenty bucks says she doesn't!" Santana gleefully bet.

"You're on," Puck replied. "She'll make it."

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "She _is_ Rachel Berry, after all."

The rest of the McKinley High glee club grabbed up all of their bags and headed towards the entrance. They were soon directed to their designated green room. Quinn backtracked to pick up Rachel from the restroom so that the other girl wouldn't be completely lost. And as she rounded the corner, she came face to face with Jesse St. James as he stepped out of the men's restroom, four or five other Vocal Adrenaline guys pouring out behind him.

And every single one of them was completely bald.

A solitary chuckle escaped Quinn's throat – she had tried to stop it, but it had come out anyway. Her jaw was hanging completely open as she took in the sight in front of her, a huge grin lighting up her eyes. "Wow," she said. "They weren't kidding…" she trailed off, realizing that she hadn't _quite_ believed Santana when the girl told her part of what they had done in retribution.

Jesse's lip curled. "I'm sorry, did you _say something_?" Attitude heavily lacing his words.

Quinn's own lip curled. The smug bastard had caught her alone in that parking lot – outnumbered and completely off guard, she hadn't stood a chance. But if there was one role Quinn Fabray could fall back on effortlessly when the situation called for it, it was that of Head Bitch. "I was _saying_," she drawled out, "that your new hairstyles look absolutely _stunning_. I'm sure the girls are falling _all over you_ now, aren't they?"

"You little bitch…" Jesse growled, stepping forward menacingly.

Quinn was fully prepared not to falter. She knew there was nothing he could do to her, so she stood her ground. And, as if they had planned it all along, the boys of New Directions stepped up right behind Quinn.

"Is there a problem here?" Finn asked.

"Nice hair," Puck said snidely under his breath.

"Or lack thereof," Kurt added, suppressing a chuckle behind his well-manicured hand.

"Yes, there's a problem here. You _idiots_ ruined our _hair_! And you got away scot-free. It's completely ridiculous!" Jesse huffed indignantly. "And our _cars_ – oh my god – none of us have been able to drive them, we probably won't be able to even go _near_ them for weeks still!"

"Oh really?" Kurt questioned innocently. "Whatsoever is wrong with your precious vehicles?"

"They _reek_," Jesse said. "They're absolutely _detestable_. And don't even try to pretend like you don't know how _that_ happened. We know you're responsible!"

"What's with all the yelling?" Rachel said calmly as she stepped out of the girls' restroom and immediately took her place beside Quinn, lacing their fingers together and sending a relatively civil look in Jesse's direction, almost daring him to act out at this point.

"Nothing," Jesse said. "We were just leaving. I hope all of you break a few legs out there today." He turned to walk away and then muttered under his breath as he passed Rachel, "Whore…"

"Excuse me?" Quinn said – her voice quiet, deadly.

Jesse had begun to walk away, but he turned back saying, "You heard me. I said she's a –" And as he fully turned around, he was met with a firm, resounding _SLAP_ from Quinn. His head spun to the side and he immediately covered the red mark that was already blossoming across his cheek with his hand. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared and he said, "You'll pay for that."

"Like hell I will," Quinn said, turning tightly on her heel and walking calmly away, grabbing Rachel's hand in the process. The rest of New Directions fell in line behind the girls as they headed back towards the green room. Puck made a few last threatening gestures in the direction of some of Jesse's minions – they flinched.

They rounded the final corner, and Quinn had the distinct prickling sensation that Rachel was staring at her as they walked. She turned her head and caught her girlfriend blatantly staring with her mouth slightly opened and eyes shining brightly. "What?" she asked.

Rachel licked her lips. Quinn's heart fluttered. "That was hot," Rachel replied simply. Quinn smirked.

* * *

Over the next half hour, everyone changed into their outfits for the performance. The girls were dazzling and golden, and the guys were pristinely dressed and dapper. As the girls were finishing the last applications of makeup and Kurt was helping tie ties, a speaker in the corner of the room crackled to life.

"_And now… Our panel of judges…"_

Everyone in the room started shushing each other, eager to hear who else would be judging them – besides Sue, of course.

"_He's an international singing sensation, a platinum recording artist twenty times over, the inimitable, Josh Groban!"_

Cheers echoed over the speaker. "Josh Groban?" Brittany questioned. "The guy who looks like a horse?"

"_She's a four-time Grammy winner who starred in the highest grossing movie-musical of all time, Miss Olivia Newton-John!"_

"Love _Grease_," Rachel said breathlessly. "Love it."

"_He's a two-time local Emmy winner and broadcasting icon, WHON news anchor, Rod Remington!"_

There was silence momentarily before Tina spoke up. "I thought they were all _celebrity_ judges?"

"_She's fresh off her sixth consecutive national cheerleading title and author of the soon to be published memoire, __I'm a Winner and You're Fat__, Ohio's home-grown iconoclast, Coach Sue Sylvester!"_

"At least there's the small consolation that Sue's about to be forced to listen to three show choirs perform. And she hates show choirs," Artie tried to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, he was right – it was only a small consolation.

"_And now, our first performance of the evening – from Westvale High in scenic Fort Wayne, Indiana, Aural Intensity!"_

"Oral Intensity?" Finn questioned, one of his eyebrows raised almost comically high.

Kurt shook his head. "_Aural_ Intensity."

Finn scratched his chin. "There's a difference?"

But the confusion over the oddly named rival show choir was soon forgotten as they began to perform. And as the notes and words poured over the speaker, New Directions' members became more and more frustrated.

"A mash-up of Olivia Newton-John and Josh Groban," Puck said, angrily pacing the room. "Are you kidding me? Somebody tipped them off about the judges!"

"Guys, we can't get distracted by what the other teams are doing," Rachel provided in an effort to lift some spirits.

"We've just gotta keep our heads in the game and stay focused," Finn added.

"Even when we know we can't win?" Santana questioned.

Mr. Schuester chose that moment to walk into the green room. He had been in the auditorium watching, but was pretty disturbed by the mash-up of _Magic _and _You Raise Me Up_, so he had left to find his kids. "Yes," he said.

He saw Rachel – who was stretching, on her tiptoes, trying to reach the OFF button on the speaker – and quickly walked over to her and flipped the switch for the tiny diva. Rachel sighed and turned away, walking towards the couch. "If this is only about winning for you guys, then I owe you an apology because I've failed you. And we should just all go home – because it means we've already lost. Besides, we have got something that the other groups don't…" Everyone waited with baited breath for Mr. Schue's encouraging words.

"What?" Artie asked.

"Finn's dancing!" Mr. Schue exclaimed as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Finn smiled as everyone else started to laugh. But then they kept laughing, and he just began to look confused.

"You know, Mr. Schue, it's not _only_ about winning," Tina said quietly from the couch.

"Yeah," Mercedes added. "We've become a family – especially over the past week."

"It's just that…" Matt trailed off, unable to find the right words to express himself.

Santana stood up. "We lose, glee club is over. None of us want that."

Rachel stood up, grabbing the hands of the people on either side of her – Quinn and Brittany – and said, "Then let's go show the judges exactly why we should win – because we have the most talent, we have the most heart, and we _want it_ the most!" She looked imploringly around at her teammates – her _friends_. "To quote my idol, Barbra, from the classic musical _Funny Girl_, '_When you're gifted, then you're gifted – these are facts!' _So let's go out there and kick some ass!"

Everyone chorused their agreement, standing up and moving in close. They placed their hands together and then lifted them into the air. _'New Directions!_' they all exclaimed. And then they made their way out of the green room. Quinn was smiling all the while, amazed at the fact that Rachel could quote lines from one of Streisand's songs in the middle of such a crisis. _She wouldn't be Rachel Berry otherwise though, would she?

* * *

_

At the end of the hallway, Rachel and Finn turned to head towards the auditorium's entrance doors where they would start the performance. Quinn reached out and slipped her fingers around Rachel's wrist as the girl began to move the way, spinning her back around and bringing her fully against Quinn's chest. Quinn kissed her then – hard and fast and full of all the passion that she wasn't sure words could express. "I love you," she breathed out as their lips parted.

Quinn had said it to Rachel in such a setting as this once before, just as Rachel was about to perform at Sectionals. This time, Rachel returned the words with equal passion and simplicity. "I love you," she said. And then they parted ways.

* * *

Finn stood in front of his designated door. He straightened his tie nervously, attempting to breathe deeply, evenly. He turned and looked towards where Rachel was standing – she was fidgeting slightly with her hair, and she clasped her hands together when she saw Finn looking, smiling bashfully at having been caught in the act of _fidgeting_. Finn moved towards her then, a boyish grin on his face. Rachel stepped towards him, meeting him halfway.

"Break a leg," she supplied sweetly.

"You're gonna be amazing, Rachel," Finn said. Rachel just smiled brilliantly, reaching out and squeezing Finn's hand briefly.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, our second competitors – winners of the Central Ohio Sectional, McKinley High's New Directions!"_

* * *

"Well, Tinkerbell – was that enough applause to sustain you for the next few months?" Quinn whispered against the shell of Rachel's ear where she had come up behind her girlfriend. The crowd was still standing and cheering and everyone in New Directions was smiling with the biggest, goofiest grins covering their faces. Mr. Schuester was jumping up and down in the wing, pumping his arm over and over in the air.

Rachel turned and threw her arms around Quinn's neck, hugging her fiercely. "For _at least_ a few months, Quinn!" she responded as they all began to run offstage.

They were still cheering and giddy with excitement as they exited the stage and made their way through the fairly-labyrinthine hallways that followed. Everyone was running along (or skipping, in Brittany's case). The very pregnant and slightly-limping (old wounds never heal) Rachel brought up the back of the group, smiling brightly and realizing that there was absolutely _no way_ Vocal Adrenaline could top their performance. Quinn was a few paces in front of her, about to enter the green room.

And then Rachel felt fingers grace across her exposed shoulders and a soft – yet strong – voice say her name. "Rachel."

Rachel spun around and a soft exhalation of breath escaped her lips. She had seen this woman before – in the crowd at Sectionals, when her hand-written, unread note had still been fresh on Rachel's mind. She had known in that moment, this woman was her mother. And now, standing three feet away from her, she realized she had never been more certain of anything.

"My name is Shelby, Shelby Corcoran. I'm your mother," Shelby said, the words escaping before she could even comprehend whether or not they were the _right_ words.

"I know who you are," Rachel breathed out. Her heart was racing, adrenaline still pumping through her veins from their performance. And despite that, she could feel the blood draining from her face. She glanced over her shoulder and was immediately comforted by Quinn's presence – she was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching the situation from a short distance and clearly ready to step in at a moment's notice.

"I'm sorry we haven't met before now, officially. I've been wanting to meet you… I watched you perform at Sectionals." Rachel nodded, her lips pressed together tightly. "You were spectacular," Shelby said. "And I was there, at the hospital... That night…" Rachel's chin lowered towards her chest. Her leg was aching in what had become a familiar fashion – just enough exertion and lack of rest combined to make her limp more pronounced than usual.

"I had heard that was the case," Rachel said. Her voice was clear and even, giving away none of her emotions or inner turmoil. Perhaps it was that lack of emotion – that absence of a slow-motion run into each others' arms – that prompted Shelby to say what she said next.

"Over the past few months of watching you from afar, I've realized that I need a lot of things in my life. A house, a garden, a dog… A _family_. I missed out on my chance with you, and it kills me. I can't let that happen again."

Rachel blinked once, twice, thrice. She didn't know what to say, how to respond. She was trying not to feel bitter or overwhelmed or angry. "What are you saying? Are you… giving up on me, on getting to know me?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Shelby took a deep breath, tasting each of the words on her tongue before she said them this time – determined to get it right. "I can be a part of your life, Rachel. I _want_ to get to know you and share things between us, I really do want that. But the little things – the first steps and the first word, the first tooth and the first tooth lost, pigtails and learning to ride a bike... These are the things I need, Rachel."

"I'm still confused. Why are you telling me this? I obviously can't give you what you need."

"I'm having a baby," Shelby said, the words leaving her lips in a rush that she just couldn't hold back any longer, ineloquent and almost shamefully honest. "Well, I physically can't have children anymore. But I'm going to have one of my eggs fertilized and then a surrogate is going to carry the pregnancy to term. I think you know her, she's a substitute teacher in Lima, Holly Holiday?"

Rachel was silently staring at her mother, completely caught off guard. _So easily replaceable_, she thought as her eyes never left the almost-fearful gaze of the woman standing in front of her.

"Rachel? Do you have anything to say? Really, anything at all – I-I don't want to just spring this all on you, I want to hear your thoughts." Shelby's voice was pleading – it wasn't a tone she was accustomed to – and she was tightly clasping her hands together in an effort to not reach out and touch her daughter.

Suddenly – almost imperceptibly – Rachel's eyes widened a fraction of an inch and her gaze flickered down to her stomach and then back up to her mother. Her mouth opened and closed once before she turned and reached her hand out in Quinn's direction, beckoning her girlfriend closer. "Quinn," she breathed out as the girl moved forward, grabbing Rachel's hand and sending her a questioning glance. "My water just broke."

* * *

_A/N: **The End.** Oh, wait, no - just playing. There's more to come. :-)_


	47. Dare You To Move

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Quinn's world was completely frozen for a moment as she stared at her girlfriend who had just proclaimed – calmly, rationally – that her water had broken. Something in Quinn's chest fell to the floor, and she had a fleeting feeling that maybe, somewhere (perhaps in an alternate universe) _she_ was the one standing there with a look of quiet shock on her face, staring at _her_ mother, announcing that she was going into labor.

But then the absurdity of that thought sunk in, and Quinn shook her head. Now was not the time for pointless, outrageous day-dreaming – it was time to act.

With a reassuring squeeze to Rachel's hand, Quinn lightly tugged her into the green room. Shelby was left behind in the hallway, an irrelevancy at this point. Quinn delicately helped Rachel sit down on the couch. She ran her hands over Rachel's cheeks, smoothed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead before she stood up fully. And then the slow, composed actions Quinn had been performing up until that point completely went out the window.

"Matt, Mike – go find Mr. Schuester immediately. Tell him Rachel's water broke."

Mike and Matt nodded furiously, already sprinting out of the room. "We're on it!" Matt yelled over his shoulder.

"Santana," Quinn said, pivoting on her heel towards the girl who was already standing with her hands on her hips, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "Find the bus driver. Please make sure he understands the speed, care, and _urgency_ needed in this situation."

Santana was already out the door. "Don't worry, he'll understand."

"Brittany," Quinn's voice was soothing now – less authoritative than only a moment before. "Sit with Rachel please, for a couple of minutes until we're ready to get out of here."

Brittany skipped over to Rachel, immediately wrapping an arm around the pregnant girl's shoulders and whispering in her ear about her cat's proficiency at babysitting. Rachel's eyes widened momentarily in horror.

"Mercedes, would you mind calling Rachel's dads and letting them know what's up?" Mercedes immediately flipped open her cell phone (which was miraculously not _already _open, sending gossip-filled text messages) to call Brendon and Marcus – Rachel had made sure all of the glee club was well-equipped for such an emergency situation as this.

Quinn spun around the room once before her eyes landed on Finn and Puck. She quickly walked towards them and began whispering once she was standing next to them. "When Santana gets back, we'll need to get Rachel out to the bus quickly. But Rachel and I discussed this – she doesn't want the entire glee club coming with us – only Mr. Schue, myself, Santana and Brittany. We didn't even really want Santana and Brittany to have to come, but we want someone there to keep you all updated on Rachel's condition – and we guessed that Mr. Schuester isn't particularly adept at texting. Anyway, her labor may not even begin for _hours_. She wants everyone to stay here and watch Vocal Adrenaline and wait for the results."

Finn opened his mouth to protest, but Puck stomped on his foot. "Ok, what do you need us to do?"

"Just help me get Rachel to the bus. Mr. Schue will have to come with us since he's the only adult sponsor person here right now. And then make sure everyone else in New Directions understands that it's better if they're here, not waiting around uselessly at the hospital."

"Are you sure that's the best idea? We all want to be there for Rachel…" Puck's voice was sweet and sensitive and Quinn was temporarily surprised that Puck was as concerned as he seemed to be. Perhaps their Jewish connection and the familial bonding over the last few months had actually affected the stone-cold womanizer.

"You know Rachel – she has an entire notebook for every single possible scenario in which she could have gone into labor. The section concerning Regionals is probably like, twenty pages long by itself," Quinn grinned despite the stress of the situation. "She basically has me labeled as the 'Master Coordinator', which is what I'm trying to be now." Nervously, Quinn looked over her shoulder at her girlfriend. Rachel's eyes were locked on Quinn, even as she nodded at whatever Brittany was saying, commenting when the time was appropriate. Quinn's lips turned up in what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"We'll do whatever you need," Finn said. Quinn's head snapped back to him then, and she nodded thankfully.

"Spy!" Kurt yelled, even though it obviously didn't matter since they had already performed.

Quinn looked towards the green room door, and there was Shelby. _Of course she wouldn't just leave_, Quinn thought, frustration lacing her thoughts. Shelby was an unexpected variable in this state of affairs. Rachel noticed her mother and then turned pleading eyes on her girlfriend. There was the most subtle shaking of her head – just once, and it was an almost imperceptible movement. But it was enough for Quinn.

She marched straight up to Shelby, lightly grabbed her wrist, and then pulled her out into the hallway and out of listening distance.

"She doesn't want you to come with us to the hospital," Quinn said shortly. She didn't have time for whatever excess drama and pointless baggage this woman was adding onto the already fully-loaded situation at hand.

"But I'm her _mother_," Shelby's voice cracked slightly, and Quinn almost felt bad for her.

"Look, I'll be honest – I think it's a good thing that you want to try and be a part of Rachel's life. She'll never admit it, but ever since you unceremoniously barged into her world, she's been curious. And it's a natural curiosity, I'll give her that. And I absolutely for the _life_ of me cannot comprehend why the hell you would throw the fact that you're starting your own family on her like you did… But in the end, she's always going to be curious. She has the reins, but you have the power. And I hate that, I really do," Quinn rubbed her hand across her eyes. Shelby had the decency to look guilty. "But what's done is done. As for today, I will say this one time. So help me God if I have to repeat myself… You will _back off_. She doesn't want you there. End of story."

Shelby's lips were tightly pressed together, and Quinn could see the movement of her throat as she swallowed nervously. Finally, as the pounding footsteps of Mr. Schue, Mike, and Matt running down the hallway began to approach them, Shelby nodded once and turned to unsteadily walk down the hall – towards her own glee club.

Quinn sighed out a breath of relief, her shoulders falling forward. _Glad that's over with_, she thought. And then her eyebrows furrowed. _For now._

_

* * *

Roses fell at Rachel's feet. She was used to it by now. She was beautiful and talented and a star. It just happened._

_And then a single yellow rose fell on top of her shoe. The petals lightly tickled the exposed skin of her foot and ankle. An inexplicable smile fell across her face, and she bent to retrieve the flower. Standing up after – the rose to her nose, inhaling deeply – her eyes flitted towards front row center. And there was Quinn. And there was Colby. And they were standing, and they were cheering. And Rachel was sure that if her heart was capable of beating out of her chest, it would have._

_And the beautiful thing was, it happened at every final curtain call for her run in a show that she had ever had. They were always there – opening night, closing night. And the single yellow rose would always make its way to her. And the wave of applause wouldn't fade to the background – it was always still there, after all – but it became a little less important to Rachel on those nights. _

_Because she would see her girls. And they were beautiful and smiling and supportive and __**home**__. And Rachel felt as if her life was perfect._

_And maybe it was.

* * *

_

"Alright, Rachel, let's get you to the bus." Mr. Schue had 'taken over' the situation – at least, Quinn let him assume that he was in charge.

Santana had returned, announcing that the bus was ready and waiting. Quinn had squeezed her hand in appreciation.

"Alright then, let's get this show on the road!" Kurt announced.

"We're not going with them," Finn said – and Quinn was impressed with how serious he sounded. He didn't sound in the least bit put-off that they weren't 'invited' or whatnot. And that was key in convincing the rest of the glee club to stay behind. Because Quinn knew they would fight. That fact made her proud.

"What?" Tina questioned. "But we're a team!"

"Yeah, a family," Artie added. "We're all going."

"No, we're not," Puck said, a fire in his voice. "It could be _hours_, guys. We're staying here, watching Vocal Adrenaline, and waiting around for those judges to make up their damn minds. No arguments."

Mercedes huffed. "Fine, if that's really what Rachel wants." She stared pointedly at the girl who was just being helped into a standing position. Rachel took a brief moment to glance around at everyone in the room before nodding in Mercedes' direction. "Alright then. But we _are_ going with you to the bus – no fighting that."

Rachel smiled gratefully. "Thank you all, so much, for being so understanding. It's just that it could be _hours_ before my contractions even start and – Oh! Oh oh oh, ok!" Her hands clamped down on the hands of those people supporting her – Mike and Brittany – and their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Ok, so I'm going into labor _now_," Rachel said as calmly as her slightly quivering voice would allow. "But still, please stay. You can come see me after the competition is over, we'll send the bus driver back here."

There were nods and murmurs of acceptance from everyone in the group who was staying behind.

"Shit just got real," Puck muttered under his breath after Rachel proclaimed that she was, in fact, going into labor right there in the middle of the green room. She was still wearing her shiny black and gold dress, for goodness' sake. It was insanity. And the gold headband was just icing on the Crazy Cake.

* * *

"_Maybe they'll be boyfriend and girlfriend!" Rachel squealed as quietly as she possibly could from the doorway._

_Quinn rolled her eyes, but she chuckled lightly anyway. "She's only seven, Rach. How fast are you really wanting her to grow up?"_

_Rachel's smile immediately began to turn upside down. Her eyes narrowed at Colby's play date. "If he even thinks about giving her a ring pop, I will smite him down like the hand of God."_

_Quinn pulled Rachel back into the hallway, away from the view of the children. She forced Rachel's back up against the wall and kissed her passionately. Pulling away, she said, "I thought you'd change your tune."_

_They began kissing forcefully again before Rachel mumbled against Quinn's lips, "Well, I don't change it often. I have perfect pitch, after all."

* * *

_

New Directions was moving as one massive group with singular purpose towards the front entrance of the auditorium. They were about the exit the backstage area of the building and head into the lobby when they ran into Vocal Adrenaline – and, therefore, Jesse St. James – as the group was preparing to head onstage to perform.

On seeing the mother of his unborn child being surrounded protectively by the uncoordinated group of misfits, he immediately became suspicious. "What's going on?" he questioned. Everyone stopped, packed into the hallway like sardines. "Rachel, are you alright?"

"Like you care," Santana spat.

Jesse turned a venomous glare on the girl – but she could have eaten his glare for lunch, he realized belatedly. Instead, he turned to Mr. Schuester – surely the man could be a voice of reason.

"Rachel is going into labor, Jesse. We're on our way to the hospital right now," Mr. Schuester supplied the answer Jesse had been looking for.

"Which hospital?" Jesse questioned. "Obviously, I can't miss performing today – since I _am_ the star – but I'll come right after." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Meaning to say, I'll come right after we win our first place trophy."

Quinn was seething with unmitigated fury. How dare he think that he was even _invited_? And God forbid he miss performing – let alone the results that wouldn't be affected either way. "Hell no, St. James. You're not coming."

"Who are you to stop me?"

And instead of replying vocally, Quinn just strode forward a few paces and kneed Jesse between the legs – _hard_. He doubled over in pain, a high-pitched grunt escaping his throat. Quinn just turned away, wrapped her arm back around Rachel's waist, and proceeded towards the exit. Everyone fell back in line behind them.

As Santana passed Jesse, she said, "At least now you can hit the high notes."

_

* * *

Rachel kissed Colby's forehead as she lightly slumbered in her small daybed. Carefully, quietly, Rachel tiptoed out of the room. The door clicked softly into place behind her. She breathed out a sigh – a sigh of exhaustion – before crossing the hall towards her bedroom. _

_Quinn was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, reading light on, papers spread out in front of her. Rachel drug her feet to their bed and promptly fell onto her face. Quinn glanced up, smiling softly at her girlfriend. "Did you finally get her to sleep?"_

"_Yesh…" Rachel's voice was lost in the comforter. She rolled onto her back. "I had to sing several classic Broadway ballads before she finally settled down. 'I Dreamed a Dream' normally does the finishing touches."_

"_It's a real pleaser, yeah?" Quinn supplied._

"_Yeah." Quinn saw Rachel's lips twitch upwards into a sweet smile. "It is."_

"_I love you," Quinn said, her elbow resting on the desk and her pen pressed against her bottom lip._

_Rachel lifted her hand in the air, beckoning Quinn closer with a single finger. Quinn obliged, crawling onto the bed and laying on her side, melding her body against Rachel's. "I love you, too."

* * *

_

Mr. Schuester was pacing in the waiting room. Brittany and Santana were reading magazines – well, Santana was reading; Brittany just liked the pictures. It had been a long two and a half hours since they had arrived at the hospital. It was monotonous. It was boring. Santana was pretty sure she was going to run out of reading material soon.

And then they heard fast falling footsteps approaching. Suddenly, Brendon and Marcus were careening around the corner. As soon as they saw the three familiar faces, they rushed forward.

"Where's our baby?" Brendon asked, panting slightly.

Mr. Schuester quickly brought them over to the nurses' station, and the men were shown into the area where they could get scrubbed up and into proper attire to be in the room with Rachel. When he made his way back to the waiting room, Will practically fell into one of the chairs.

"Alright there, Mr. Schue?" Santana asked. He looked a little green.

"I think I walked by as Rachel was having a contraction. I don't envy Quinn the pain her hand is probably feeling right now."

Santana grimaced. Brittany looked up from her magazine. "It'll all be worth it," she said serenely. "Quinn won't mind, once she's a mom." Santana couldn't help looking at Brittany with a bit of awe in her gaze. The blonde caught Santana staring and smiled cutely at her. "Do I have something on my face?" she asked.

Santana shook her head, but she didn't say anything. She just didn't have the words. Brittany leaned over and touched their lips together – it was soft and sweet and, Santana was sure, something like _heaven_.

"You know," Brittany said, "that might be you in there someday."

"What?" Santana questioned. "Having the holy hell squeezed out of my hand?"

"No," Brittany replied. "Doing the squeezing." And then she went back to reading her magazine.

Santana's eyebrows were nearly lost in her hairline as she struggled to find words. But maybe there were no words – it seemed to be a common occurrence when her love for Brittany just completely overwhelmed her capacity to form coherent thoughts.

Mr. Schuester got up to go in search of something to drink – he had been too nervous about missing Rachel's dads that he hadn't left the room since they had arrived at the hospital hours ago. Passing Santana, he did a double take before stopping briefly. "Are _you_ alright, Santana?"

She blinked once before glancing at Mr. Schue and then back at Brittany. "Yeah, Mr. Schue. I'm perfect."

_

* * *

Rachel sent a death glare at the guy next to her – he had bumped her tripod, and she wasn't pleased. She felt the soothing touch of Quinn's grip on her thigh at the edge of her short black dress._

"_Baby," Quinn said, "it's going to be alright."_

"_But he –" Rachel began to hiss in protest. Quinn turned her smoldering gaze on her girlfriend. Rachel swallowed thickly, turning back to the stage. She was quickly distracted when the curtain began to rise. "Ohh!" she squealed. "It's starting!" And just like that, her neighbor's former indiscretion was forgotten. She hit the record button._

_It was Colby's first dance recital. The little girl was a perfectionist, like her mom – she had been practicing everyday for weeks, asking to stay up past her bedtime the last few nights to make sure she had it down just right. Which she did, obviously – it was apparent. She outshone the other girls. Maybe it wasn't fair, but Rachel didn't care. She was so proud in that moment that tears were threatening to spill over and down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with one hand._

_The music faded, the girls curtseyed. Rachel stood up and clapped loudly, very nearly knocking her tripod over herself. And Quinn was right next to her, on her feet and cheering and looking at this woman standing next to her – proud and beaming – and knowing that it had never really been a contest. This life – wild and crazy as it had been so far – was all she needed.

* * *

_

"It's time to push."

Rachel heard the words through her slightly medicated haze. "Isn't it too soon for that?"

"You're already sufficiently dilated," the doctor replied. "It's time."

Rachel's eyes swept the room – taking note of the nurse and the doctor and her dads – before finally landing on Quinn. "She's coming," Quinn said softly, leaning down to touch her lips against Rachel's cheek. She left her forehead pressed against the side of Rachel's face. "You can do this."

"Can I?" Rachel asked – hesitation, nervousness coating her voice. She hated that.

"Of course you can," Quinn replied matter-of-factly. "You're Rachel Berry."

Quinn pulled back and stared at the girl in front of her. Rachel nodded, a slight sheen of sweat already coating her face. "Let's do this."

* * *

"_You saw that, right?" Rachel was asking, her voice frantic. "You saw what she did?"_

_Quinn laughed – a full on belly shaking laugh that left her cheeks tinted with a hint of pink and her hand covering her mouth that was hanging wide open in disbelief. "Yes!" she all but shouted. "Hold on, I have to get my camera!" She ran from the room and returned not even half a minute later. "Can you get her to do it again?"_

"_I hope so," Rachel said._

_And then – as if she had been doing it all her life – Colby was standing on her feet and walking towards Rachel who had dropped her hands and was moving back from her slowly. Rachel reached a wall, and Colby was still coming towards her. She immediately put her hands under Colby's arms and picked her up, spinning her around in the air. "That's my baby girl!" she cheered, smiling brightly._

_Colby giggled, and something inside Quinn's chest completely fell apart. "I think she's inherited your poise, Rach. She's going to be a dancer, I can already tell."_

_Rachel stopped spinning in place and turned shining, adoring eyes on Quinn. "I'm glad, then, that she's inherited your grace."

* * *

_

Rachel was pretty sure this was hell. And she wanted to slap the doctor every time he said, '_You're doing great, one more big push!_' because he was totally lying! Rachel had yet to see the push that was the big one. They were all big, and none had been last. It wasn't fair. She was pretty certain the drugs were wearing off, and that was _not _ok – and Quinn's fingers were reaping the benefit of that problem.

"I love you," Quinn whispered in her ear. And Rachel wanted to say it back, she really did. But she couldn't form coherent thoughts. Things were _ripping_ down there, for Christ's sake, and she could barely _breathe_. "Rachel, baby, breathe with me, ok?" It was like Quinn had read her mind. And then Rachel heard Quinn's breaths next to her ear, and she tried to follow along. And then she was breathing normally again.

It was ok. She was ok. She could do this.

"She's crowning," Rachel heard the doctor say. "This is it, Rachel, I promise. Here we go!"

And Rachel was pushing and squeezing the _shit_ out of Quinn's hand and screaming at the top of her lungs and trying trying trying… And then she felt an overwhelming sense of relief, emptiness. Her head hit the pillow behind her, her fingers loosened around Quinn's. There was a moment of relative silence in which Rachel's eyes were closed – she was vaguely aware of the doctor speaking softly, giving direction to the nurse.

And then there was crying – and Rachel realized that she had never before in all of her years on Earth heard such a beautiful sound. She lifted her head to stare down at the small, barely discernable tiny human the doctor was holding.

The nurse had some industrial scissors in her hand and was questioning Rachel's fathers. "Which one of you would like to cut the cord?"

Rachel hadn't spoken articulately in quite a while, but she found her voice in that moment. "Quinn," she said. "Quinn would like to cut the cord."

Her head again fell back on the pillow. Quinn's jaw had dropped when Rachel had spoken up. She had never anticipated that _she_ would receive the honor – the privilege – of doing such a thing. It really was such a small act, but Quinn held the scissors in her hands and reverently performed the task – all the while looking into the tiny face that Rachel had brought into this world.

The nurse immediately took the baby off to the side to clean her off and wrap her up. The doctor set to work taking care of Rachel (and Quinn had the life squeezed out of her hand again when the doctor numbed Rachel for the necessary stitches – even though not many were needed, the shot still hurt like hell). And within just a few minutes, it was done. The doctor did a preliminary examination to make sure Colby was given a clean bill of health. '_Perfect_,' he had said. Rachel had only nodded and tiredly replied, '_Of course she is_.'

And then the nurse brought the newborn over to Rachel and placed her delicately in the girl's waiting arms. Rachel looked down into the little face, she touched the tiny hands, she felt the soft skin under her fingertips. Quinn, Brendon, and Marcus all stood looking over the side of the bed at the little miracle sitting in Rachel's protective grasp.

"She's beautiful," Marcus sighed out. He leaned over and kissed Rachel on the forehead, gently pushing her sweaty hair back away from her face.

"She really is," Brendon agreed, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. "I'll go tell Mr. Schuester and the girls. I'm sure they'll want to let the rest of the glee kids know." He went to leave the room, and Marcus followed.

Quinn was leaning fully against the bed, the palm of her right hand resting against the skin of Rachel's left arm. She hadn't said anything yet – she wasn't sure there were words for this feeling.

Rachel had glanced up at her fathers as they had spoken only to return her line of sight to the precious child in her arms. And then she felt a cool drop of moisture hit her skin. She turned and saw that tears were falling freely down Quinn's face – but she also saw the smile and the happiness in those same eyes, and she smiled back at her love, trying to keep from crying herself.

And when Rachel spoke, her voice was strong and steady. "Quinn, look what I made..."

* * *

_Welcome to the planet.  
Welcome to existence._


	48. The Unwinding Cable Car

_A/N: First of all, I could give you excuses for taking so long to update, but I just won't. Second, is anyone else curious as to who exactly is using those chastity charms as clip on nipple rings? No? Just me? Ok._

_

* * *

Emotive unstable,  
You're like an unwinding cable car.  
Listening for voices,  
Buts it's the choices that make us who we are.  
Go your own way,  
Even season have change,  
Just burn those new leaves over.  
So self-absorbed,  
You've seemed to ignore,  
The prayers that have already come about.  
_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

Puck was staring at the stage and sincerely wishing that Santana was there – because he was fully prepared to give her the most epic fistbump _ever_.

The guys of Vocal Adrenaline may have been bald, but the girls were sporting bright pink manes. And Puck knew from Kurt that the color was absolutely _not_ coming out anytime soon. The kids on stage had wisely color coordinated, and the guys' shirts were roughly the same shade of pink. Regardless, it was clear to the members of New Directions – who knew that the girls' hair color was far from a _choice_ – that they were absolutely _not _thrilled.

And there was something so very satisfying about that.

The first notes of Vocal Adrenaline's performance rang out from the stage and across the audience. The girls were singing a capella, and it took all of half a second for Puck to realize that they had chosen _Bohemian Rhapsody._

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me," Mercedes muttered on Puck's right side.

"Upset we didn't think of it first?" Matt whispered from his spot down the row.

Kurt held up a hand. "Guys," he whispered, "the song may be epic, but Vocal Adrenaline knows they've met their match. The judging will speak for itself."

Puck leaned back in his seat. Kurt was right, he could recognize that. But the minutes passed by and, well… the performance onstage was flawless. Their hair may have been laughable, but their dance moves and their vocals and their stage presence and their acting were all impeccable, spot-on, perfect.

Puck was worried.

* * *

Sue held the tip of her pen lightly against her lips as the pink-clad bald kid sang out the final notes of their song. No emotion crossed her face – she was a stone-cold statue. _Gay_, she thought in her head, mentally tossing the kid into her Sexual Labels folder. And when everyone around her stood to applaud, she remained seated with her ass firmly plastered to the cushy seat. The performance she had just been forced to sit throughout was not worthy of the praise of Sue Sylvester. It was that simple.

Glancing sidelong out of the corner of her eye, she saw Horsey taking diligent notes on the performance. Remington was completely turned around, chatting with some blonde tramp behind him. And Newton-John was yawning.

Prepared to not waste another moment of her precious time, Sue stood abruptly before gesturing at her fellow judges and quickly storming up the aisle and out into the lobby.

It was time to deliberate.

* * *

Kurt realized that the problem with celebrity judges was that they tended towards the dramatic. Which was why – three hours after Vocal Adrenaline had finished performing – the glee kids were all sitting around the green room in various states of unease and nervousness while waiting on the decision that would ultimately decide their fate.

So Kurt was a little dramatic himself. What else was new?

"Oh my gosh," Mercedes gasped.

Turning his head to the side, Kurt questioned the girl who was sitting next to him on the couch. "What's going on? Is it Rachel?"

Mercedes nodded. "I just got the text from Santana." She started passing her phone around. "Rachel's starting to push. The baby is going to be here soon!"

The breath in Kurt's lungs left his body in a rush, and he slumped back against the cushions underneath him. "Wow," he muttered softly. The birth of Rachel's baby had been a long time coming. Months had passed and everyone in the room around him had changed and grown and matured. And now here they were – united for one singular purpose: to support Rachel, even if it was from a distance.

He blindly reached out, grasping for Mercedes' hand. He found her fingers and wrapped them up in his, squeezing momentarily before closing his eyes. Kurt wasn't religious – he had a lot of issues with what it meant to have faith in a god whose followers shoved him into lockers day after day.

Regardless, with his eyes closed and his head slightly bowed against his clenched fist, Kurt asked _whoever_ was listening to help Rachel be strong.

* * *

Sue thought she had made it clear when she waltzed into the room behind the other three judges (for dramatic effect only) that she couldn't have _possibly_ cared less about first and second place.

She was there for one reason and one reason only – to _crush_ the glee club.

But see, Sue didn't want to _just_ crush the glee club. She wanted to annihilate any and all trace of their existence. She wanted to completely and utterly wipe them from the face of the Earth. She wanted Will Schuester's choir room, and she wanted to be able to fall asleep that night knowing that she had successfully restored order to her life.

However, it only took a few minutes – which had now turned into a few _torturous _hours – until Sue began rethinking her strategy. And really, it wasn't just her strategy she was calling into question – it was her _way of life_.

'_I, for one, am offended that only one of the groups chose to honor me in song,_' Newton-John had said. It was pathetic, Sue knew. But it benefitted her – because that meant Olivia was leaning towards Aural Intensity to win. And Aural Intensity winning meant New Directions (and Will Schuester) losing.

And then the woman had begun criticizing New Directions. '_Heart?_' she had scoffed. '_Talk about blatant tokenism. The whole 'we're inspiring, we're a ragtag bunch of misfits' thing is so 2009.'_ Sue had agreed, pressuring them to vote _then_ while New Directions was clearly at a disadvantage.

But something inside Sue began to shift when she heard Newton-John start to question whether or not New Directions was from a '_poor person school_' and claimed that '_brunettes have no place in show business_'. Sue couldn't help but realize that that 'ragtag bunch of misfits' was from _her_ school – and if there was one thing that Sue Sylvester had learned from coaching _cheerleaders_ for the past decade, it was that there was a point at which you couldn't help but stand up and support _your team_ (even if that team was a complete sham and a waste of space and breathable air).

So she had stood up for the WMHS glee club. '_Come on, they're just kids_,' she had said. But to no avail. And Sue questioning the other judges led to the other judges questioning Sue. Why was Sue there? Was she _really_ a celebrity? Wasn't she – in all actuality – a lot like the very glee club she was trying to crush? '_Underachievers with illusions of grandeur_,' Remington had said. And his tone of voice had been slick and suave enough that no one had even questioned the fact that he himself was only a _news anchor_, for goodness' sake.

Sue had stirred the pot, and it had been boiling over ever since. It was well into the evening now. And Sue was looking down at her blank piece of paper with lines for first, second, and third place. She was looking at those damn lines and trying to imagine the different names of the three glee clubs spread out over that blank, white space.

And that was another thing – she had never stopped to consider the fact that there could possibly be glee clubs that were more _stupidly_ named than 'New Directions'. But here she was, being forced to listen to three people who she _hated_ talking about the merits behind 'Aural Intensity' and 'Vocal Adrenaline' and – honestly – Sue was prepared to perform a lobotomy on herself to relieve the pain.

When Newton-John finally proclaimed, '_I think we've all made up our minds. Let's vote_,' Sue's eyes never left the paper in front of her. She reached over and picked up her pen, and she began to cast her vote.

* * *

Brittany had dozed off against Santana's shoulder by the time Marcus and Brendon – hands clasped together between them – practically ran into the waiting room. Santana immediately stiffened upon seeing them, and Brittany's eyes blinked open sleepily. However, when Brittany saw Rachel's dads headed towards them at a brisk pace, she immediately became fully aware of what was going on.

Mr. Schuester rushed forward to greet the Berry men, Santana and Brittany close behind him (pinkies linked). "What's happening? How is Rachel?" Will questioned when Brendon and Marcus finally came to a stop in front of them.

"She's here!" Brendon exclaimed. "A beautiful baby girl!"

"Congratulations!" Will exclaimed, extending his hand to shake Brendon's. Instead, the tiny man pulled him into a hug, pounding his hand good-naturedly against Will's back.

"Rachel had her baby?" Brittany questioned Santana quietly. "It's all over?"

Santana nodded, pulling the other girl into a hug. "Yeah, B. The baby is finally here."

"Do we get to see them?" Brittany turned her head, this time questioning Rachel's dads. She gave Santana an excited squeeze.

"I think so," Marcus replied. "Very, very soon. We'll let you know for sure. But if you'd like to inform the rest of the glee club, we know that Rachel would really appreciate it."

"Sure thing," Santana replied, detaching herself from Brittany's side and heading back towards her chair where she had left her cell phone. She quickly flipped it open and skillfully pressed button after button. She reread her message once and then sent it, satisfied.

A few minutes passed – the Berrys had already gone back into Rachel's room – before Brittany spoke again. "What happens if Sue crushes the glee club?" she asked.

Santana frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Brittany started speaking more slowly, worried that Santana hadn't comprehended the first time, "what happens to everyone in glee club when there is no more glee club?"

Santana's frown deepened, and she was sure she was causing unattractive creases in her forehead. She took her time answering Brittany's question, and when she did finally answer, she knew that her blonde counterpart would never be satisfied with the lackluster reply she came up with. "I don't know, B. I just don't know…"

* * *

The auditorium stage didn't have a wheelchair ramp. _Typical_, Artie thought as Matt and Finn lifted him up the steps onto the stage.

The event coordinator had come into the room five minutes previous proclaiming that the judges had finally come to a decision. Everyone had smiled and squeezed each others' hands and all of that silent supportive mumbo jumbo that seemed to work in tense situations such as the one they were in – but really, they were all just waiting to hear about Rachel. The baby should be coming any minute.

"Don't worry guys," Mercedes had reassured them. "I'm absolutely taking my phone onstage with us."

The boys set Artie down and took off his brakes before he wheeled himself over to where Kurt, Mercedes, Mike, Tina, and Puck were already standing in a small huddle. He stopped in front of Tina, turning over his shoulder to give her a soft smile; she responded by lightly placing her hands on his shoulders.

Looking out into the audience, Artie watched as parents and show choir supporters (and other show choirs not fortunate enough to be competing) filed into the seats. It was quite the huge crowd that had stuck around to see the results. And Artie couldn't help but think that Rachel would have loved to be standing up here right now.

Suddenly, the eight remaining members of the glee club all whipped their heads in Mercedes' direction – because her all-too-familiar ringtone had just gone off.

"Is it Santana again?" Tina asked.

"Come on, what does it say?" Puck questioned, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet while awaiting the verdict.

"You guys…" Mercedes trailed off – and she didn't even need to speak the words, because the smile on her face said it all. "Rachel had her baby!" she exclaimed. "Her beautiful baby girl is finally here!"

Standing onstage awaiting the results of their competition – without their director, without their star, without an entire third of their group – should have been sad. It wasn't a good feeling to be separated like this. But in that moment – knowing that Rachel was ok, that _her baby_ was finally here and that she was healthy and strong – all eight of the kids on that stage felt like proud family members who were just getting the news. They felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief and support for Rachel and her family. And it was a beautiful feeling.

They were all jumping (while Artie rocked his wheelchair back and forth) and cheering and hugging and _crying_ (though the crying was _mostly_ only the girls). The members of Aural Intensity to their left were giving them slightly nervous looks, wondering what exactly was in the water in Lima. And farther to the left, Shelby Corcoran stood next to her own show choir team, her hand pressed firmly against her lips and her eyes squeezed shut to prevent herself from crying – because she had heard Mercedes' announcement, and it broke her heart that she had missed out on yet _another_ important moment in her daughter's life.

After just a few moments of New Directions' celebration concerning their newest, _youngest_ member of the team _ever_, the crowd started cheering. Artie saw Coach Sylvester walk around the corner of the stage, and she was holding two envelopes in her hand – holding them out enticingly towards the enthusiastic audience. The other judges were close behind.

Artie couldn't help the feeling of nervous anticipation that finally seemed to settle in his chest – and the happiness for Rachel took a backseat in that moment. Because, well, he was here on this stage _now_ – and this moment was _kind of_ a determining factor for how exactly he was going to spend the rest of his high school career.

So he sobered up and paid attention.

"Thank you all for coming. As you all know, glee club is such an important … And I honestly can't even finish that sentence. So let's just get to it."

Coach Sylvester's attitude towards glee clubs was showing – and Artie knew that didn't bode well. She thought their group was ridiculous – a waste of time and space and _money_ – so wouldn't she do anything in her power to end them? And tonight, she had a quarter of the vote…

Time seemed to slow down as Sue picked up the first envelope. Finally, she said, "The 2010 Midwest Regional Runners Up – from Fort Wayne, Indiana, the not at all stupidly named 'Aural Intensity'!"

Artie breathed out a sigh of relief as Aural Intensity ran off stage.

"Oh my gosh!" he heard Tina excitedly whisper behind him. "I think we got first place!"

He gave her another smile over his shoulder as the two glee clubs scooted together onstage. Maybe Tina was right. They had seen Vocal Adrenaline's performance – and while the song was a beloved classic, the performance was rather static whereas New Directions' performance had been a well-rounded show with a ballad and a mash up and a classic crowd pleaser. And most importantly, every word and every move had been completely their own style.

If they didn't win, then they would lose with dignity knowing that they had given it their all – their heart and soul.

"And now," Sue said, "your 2010 Midwest Regional Show Choir Champions…" It was so quiet in the room that Artie heard the scraping of the results card against the envelope in which it was contained. He held his breath. "Vocal Adrenaline!"

Rod Remington walked over to their stunned, silent group and handed Artie their small trophy. Artie shook his hand, and he walked away while giving them a thumbs up.

But a 'thumbs up' wasn't going to keep their glee club around. A 'thumbs up' couldn't pay for costumes or set designs or a handicap bus. A 'thumbs up' might as well have been a 'slap in the face'.

It was almost unbearable to look to their left and see the smug, triumphant Jesse St. James being lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates, hoisting their championship trophy in the air. They were going to Nationals. And New Directions was going back to Lima with nothing but their rapidly disintegrating hopes and dreams for themselves and each other – for a glee club that was capable of winning Regionals, going to Nationals; for a glee club full of kids trying to make names for themselves in the town of Lima, the town where they seemed to be destined for anonymity.

"We didn't even place," Artie said sadly. Everyone had naturally formed a circle together. They breathed in and out as one, allowing this sad moment for themselves. And then Artie said, "Alright, screw this – let's get to that hospital!"

And just like that, smiles broke out on everyone's faces. And as Puck and Finn carried him down the stairs and pushed him up the auditorium aisle to the exit, Artie thought that it would be really awesome to give Rachel's baby wheelchair rides. _I think I'd make a decent uncle_, he thought to himself as they all raced towards the bus that was waiting to take them to the hospital to reunite with their team.

* * *

Brittany jumped up and down outside of the door. Santana was standing next to her – with an uncharacteristically _huge_ smile adorning her features. Brendon had just pulled them to Rachel's new room from the waiting room – she had been moved from the delivery room to this one where she would be staying overnight. Brittany and Santana had been bouncing around outside the room for two and half minutes now, waiting to see Rachel and Quinn and (most importantly) the _baby_.

Brittany looked over at Santana. The brunette didn't realize that she was being watched, and Brittany found it completely and utterly _adorable _that Santana was so excited to see a baby.

The door opened. "Ok girls," Marcus said. "Come on in!"

Santana was first through the door, dragging Brittany right behind her by the pinkie. Rachel was sitting up in bed, holding a pink bundle. Quinn was leaning against the bed, looking down into Rachel's arms from over her shoulder. When the girls walked in, Rachel looked up with a tired, happy smile on her face.

"Brittany, Santana," she started. "Meet Colby." Brittany noticed that Rachel's voice was soft and loving – the voice of a mother speaking reverently about her child.

Both of the girls stepped forward and looked into Colby's face. Her eyes were closed and her tiny hand was clenched around Quinn's extended finger. Looking up into Quinn's face, Brittany saw tears swimming in the girl's eyes. "You're moms now," Brittany said matter-of-factly.

Santana leaned down and softly whispered, "Hi there," as she stroked the soft skin of Colby's hand.

After Brittany's words, Rachel looked up into Quinn's eyes. "Yeah," she said softly. "We are." In response, Quinn leaned down and cupped Rachel's cheek with her free hand, softly kissing Rachel on the lips. When Quinn pulled back, Rachel turned her eyes towards Colby again. Quinn leaned her forehead against Rachel's temple. "Would you guys like to hold her?"

"Yes." The word probably left Santana's lips before she had the presence of mind to consider that it made her look _soft_ – but she didn't really care. She wanted to hold the baby. So Rachel gently lifted Colby into the air (and Quinn extracted her finger from the baby's strong grip) and Santana wrapped her arms around her. "Wow," Santana breathed out. Brittany stood behind the shorter girl, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist and looking over her shoulder at Colby.

"You're a natural, Santana," Quinn said as she took a seat on the bed next to her girlfriend. A few quiet, peaceful moments passed. "Any word from the glee club?"

Santana shook her head, not looking away from Colby. "No, not yet."

Brittany smiled as she continued to hold Santana in her arms and stare down at the precious little newborn. She still didn't know what would happen if Sue crushed the glee club, but it seemed a little less important in this moment.

* * *

_A/N: So in my mind, there is one more chapter after this one. But I'm planning a little epilogue as well. So two chapters, and then we're done! Next chapter, I have two songs planned for them to perform (again, it's just in my head, so I make no promises). And one is a Faberry duet. I'm pretty set on what song they're going to sing (and yes, it is a song that was done on the show), but I'd be interested to hear what duet(s) you all are leaning towards – so let me know (if for no other reason than to appease my curiosity)! **And thank you – for all of your support so far.**_


	49. Fire

_A/N: Last chapter! (__**Plus an epilogue sometime in the relatively near future.**__) I sincerely hope that you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. For once, I finished a story!_

_Also – if you're interested in a sequel that I may or may not ever get around to writing, put me on __**author alert**__.  
_

_Much love to each and every one of you – you reading this story (silent or otherwise) has made this journey worth it. Thank you!_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

The sun was shining brightly and beating down on the pavement in front of Rachel's car. Her sunglasses were perched on her nose as she listened to the music that was spilling lightly from her stereo. She glanced in her rearview mirror several times over the course of only a few minutes – she couldn't help but check on the safety of her baby girl.

She pulled up outside the house that had become familiar to her over the past several months, putting the car in park and unbuckling her seatbelt. She hopped out of the car, the light tread of her sandals the only discernable sound besides the chirping birds in the near vicinity. Pulling open the backdoor, she softly said, "My sleepy baby girl," as she removed Colby's car seat from the backseat and proceeded to walk swiftly up the sidewalk to the front door of the house.

After she rang the doorbell, it took a few moments before the door was opened. While she waited, Rachel gazed fondly down at her little girl, glancing up only when the door swung inward to reveal Mrs. Fretthold.

"Rachel!" Sean's mom exclaimed happily. Her eyes were immediately diverted from the smiling face of the brunette and to the tiny bundle that Rachel was toting about. "Oh!" she softly whispered, covering her mouth with both of her hands as she realized that the child was sleeping peacefully. "I hope I didn't wake her," she continued.

Rachel shook her head. "Hi Mrs. Fretthold. Please don't worry, I think she got used to my constant singing before she was born, so it takes quite a lot to truly disturb Colby." Rachel's response was accompanied by a beaming smile as she pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. Mrs. Fretthold continued to stare down at Colby with a huge smile on her face; she reached out and lightly trailed a fingertip down the baby's incredibly soft arm. "Do you think Sean is up for a couple visitors?" Rachel asked.

Mrs. Fretthold stood up fully. "Absolutely," she said. "He knew that there was a good chance that you wouldn't be dropping by like usual since Finn let us know that you had given birth. He'll be so thrilled that you're both here!"

"Great," Rachel said as both women stepped into the house. And she meant it – it had been a couple of weeks since she had last stopped by to sing with Sean. It had also been about a week since their loss to Vocal Adrenaline.

_

* * *

Rachel had just finished feeding Colby, and Quinn had gingerly placed the sleeping baby into the hospital-provided basinet a few feet away from Rachel's bed. Quinn ran her hand over the silky soft brown hair on top of Colby's head, marveling at the feel underneath her fingertips. She looked down into the baby's face – taking in the tiny nose and the delicate lines of her lips. Reluctantly, Quinn turned away from the basinet and back towards her girlfriend._

_It had been a long, tiring day. Rachel's eyelids were heavily closed, and Quinn attempted to tread as lightly as possible back to the other side of the room, slipping off her shoes and climbing as gently as possible onto the bed as well. She glanced over her shoulder once, noting that Santana had nodded off – in a rather uncomfortable position at that. As Quinn watched, Brittany's phone vibrated in her hand, and she slid it open. A huge smile covered her face, and she flew up out of her chair and across the room, winking at the questioning gaze Quinn was directing toward her as she softly shut the door behind her._

"_Rach," Quinn whispered against Rachel's temple._

"_Hmm?" Rachel sleepily hummed against the inside of her cheeks._

_Quinn chuckled lightly as she brought her hand up to Rachel's face, stroking her fingers up and down to rouse the girl from whatever light slumber she was attempting to fall into. "I think you're about to have some guests, Rach."_

_In response, Rachel turned her head in Quinn's direction, pressing her face fully into Quinn's open palm. "Guests?" she questioned, cracking one eye open to stare at Quinn's lips. Quinn only nodded in response, kissing Rachel's other still-closed eyelid. "I see," Rachel replied, rolling onto her side and throwing an arm around Quinn's waist. "Do I look presentable?" she mumbled into Quinn's chest._

_Quinn laughed and pressed the side of her face against Rachel's hair, bringing her hand up to touch the gold headband that was still holding Rachel's tresses back from her face. "You look stunning," Quinn answered._

"_Lies," Rachel sighed happily.

* * *

_

"Is it ok if I just head into his room?" Rachel asked Mrs. Fretthold's back as she followed her down the hall.

"You're welcome to head into his room," Mrs. Fretthold replied, "but he's not in there."

A confused look covered Rachel's face momentarily before realization covered her face. "Where is he?" she asked, suddenly more excited than she had been a few moments before.

"This way, in the living room."

Rachel eagerly followed Sean's mom into the spacious room. And when she saw Sean sitting in his high-tech wheelchair and watching a baseball game on the television, her eyes immediately began to well up with tears and an even bigger, brighter smile graced her lips.

Having heard the approaching footsteps, Sean maneuvered his chair to face the entryway. "Rachel!" he exclaimed, his eyes immediately seeking out the contents of the baby carrier at her side. "I've been looking forward to meeting the newest member of your family." His voice was light and confident – it was a tone that Rachel had begun to elicit more and more as her weekly visits became a habit. But there was something else in his voice that Rachel had _never_ heard – happiness.

"Sean, it's so good to see you! And up and about at that!" She walked around the sectional and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek before hoisting the carrier up slightly and saying, "Meet Colby."

His eyes shone brightly as he stared down at the slumbering child. "She's beautiful, Rachel." His voice came only after several long minutes of gazing reverently.

"She's got the softest skin I've ever felt in my life. Would you like to feel?" Rachel questioned, sitting the carrier on the ground and unfastening Colby's straps.

Sean looked momentarily hesitant, furrowing his eyebrows and saddened by the fact that he couldn't hold the infant. And then Rachel was holding Colby in her arms and leaning forward, lightly touching the baby's hand to Sean's cheek. His eyes fluttered closed and he shifted his head, kissing one of Colby's fingers. "You're right," he said as Rachel straightened up. "Softest skin ever!"

"And she sleeps _all_ the time. Which is good, I guess, since I actually get to sleep through the night. Not sure how long that will last though." Rachel's eyes shifted from Sean's face to Colby's, flickering over the features that she had already memorized.

"You did good," Sean said.

Rachel lifted her head and stared at her friend. He was smiling like Rachel had never seen before – except in pictures. She ducked her head self-consciously, staring back down at Colby. "Would you like to sing with me?"

"Of course."

She turned and settled onto the couch. Sean moved closer, moving his chair with his lips and the breath in his lungs. Rachel tucked Colby up against her chest, wrapping her arms confidently around her baby. "I have the perfect song," she said, "and I think it's one you'll know." Sean nodded slightly, grinning. "Just join in when you're comfortable."

Rachel cleared her throat and began to sing.

"_Somewhere over the rainbow,  
Way up high,  
There's a land that I heard of  
Once in a lullaby._"

Sean's eyes closed briefly before taking the melody while Rachel's voice harmonized beautifully.

"_Somewhere over the rainbow,  
Skies are blue,  
And the dreams that you dare to dream  
Really do come true_."

_

* * *

All the members of the glee club were crowded around the tiny basinet._

"_She has your nose, Rachel!"_

"_Look at all that hair!"_

"_How small do they make tap shoes?"_

"_If we poke her, will she wake up?"_

"_Her fingers are so tiny!"_

_Rachel smiled contently from her bed, knees pulled up to her chest as she stared at her friends. "You know, I would very much appreciate knowing the results from tonight," Rachel said, the smile never leaving her face – even though she really did want to know what had happened after she had left for the hospital._

_Finn stepped away from Colby and took a couple steps towards Rachel. "Well, the judges took absolutely forever to come to a decision."_

"_Yes, it was absolute torture," Kurt added._

"_But in the end…" Finn trailed off, and Rachel knew the truth from the crestfallen expression on his face. "Vocal Adrenaline won."_

_Rachel's lips turned downwards slightly. "So we were the runners-up, I guess?"_

_And when Finn turned away, refusing to meet her eyes, she again knew the answer to her question._

_Puck lifted his head. "We didn't place," he said._

"_Coach Sylvester won?" Brittany questioned, an uncharacteristic frown on her face._

_Mr. Schuester was standing in the corner of the room chatting with the Berry men. But he couldn't help overhearing the conversation his kids were having. He had heard that they had lost – and not only that they had lost, but that they had lost spectacularly. There was a part of him that wanted to have severe words with Sue, but there was another part of him that just lacked the energy, the passion, the conviction that was necessary to fight the force of Sue Sylvester – the force that had proven itself to be unstoppable._

"_No," Quinn said. "Sue didn't win. We won. Look at us." She motioned around the room. "Just a few weeks ago, we were certain that the end of glee club would mean none of us speaking to each other again. I'm pretty confident at this point that that isn't true anymore."_

_Puck nodded his head. "Yeah, I'd talk to Wheels if we were walking down the hall – and not because I was going to push him down the staircase either."_

_Quinn shook her head with a smile on her lips. "We're friends now."_

"_No," Tina said, looking up and around at the group standing around her. "We're way more than just friends. We're family. And it doesn't matter if Sue crushed glee club. We don't need glee club to keep singing."_

_Suddenly, Artie wheeled himself out into the middle of the floor and began to sing. Everyone soon joined in, harmonizing behind him. And before long, Mercedes look the lead. Rachel sat fully up in her bed and was joining in within a few moments, Quinn at her side and their fingers laced tightly together._

"_Sometimes in our lives,  
We all have pain,  
We all have sorrow.  
But if we are wise,  
We know that there's always tomorrow._

"_Lean on me, when you're not strong,  
And I'll be your friend,  
I'll help you carry on.  
For it won't be long,  
Til I'm gonna need,  
Somebody to lean on."_

* * *

Rachel opened the door to her home and was immediately met with both of her dads. They had eager looks on their faces, and Marcus quickly spoke up.

"We haven't seen our granddaughter almost all day!" he exclaimed as he rushed forward to take Colby's car seat out of Rachel's hands.

"You won't mind if we take care of her for a while, will you, pumpkin?" Brendon added over his shoulder, already following Marcus into the living room.

All Rachel could do was laugh and shoo him away with her hand. Her dads had truly been the most amazing, supportive granddads since bringing Colby home. Rachel had never intended on taking advantage of her dads – but they refused to see it that way; they had struck a balance, a feeling that they were _all_ blessed to have such a beautiful bundle of joy in their midst. Despite the happiness and the homeostatic relationship that had emerged between Quinn-Rachel-Colby-Brendon-Marcus, there was still a lot of uncertainty about the future – about balancing classes and extracurriculars and dance (which Rachel was prepared to start back up in a couple weeks) and graduation and _college plans._

Leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest, Rachel couldn't help but smile fondly at her dads – sitting on the floor and making precious baby noises at Colby as they laid her out to change her diaper. Brendon looked up and blew a kiss in Rachel's direction. She laughed, returned the kiss, and headed up the stairs.

Opening her bedroom door, she was met with a cool spring breeze. Her window was open, the curtains fluttering. Quinn was sitting at her desk with one knee pulled up to her chest, papers scattered across the desk in front of her, pencil scribbling furiously across a page. Rachel smiled (a permanent fixture lately) and moved forward, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck from behind.

"Hi baby," Rachel said. "Working hard?"

Quinn placed her pencil down on her open book. She reached up and wrapped her hands around Rachel's arms, leaning back in her embrace. "Just trying to finish preparing for the chemistry final."

Rachel shuddered dramatically. "Better you than me, Miss Fabray."

"Mmm," Quinn murmured as Rachel's lips blazed a light trail from her cheek to her ear and down her neck. "You're such a bad influence, Rach."

Gasping, Rachel replied, "What? That's such a ridiculous statement, I can't even…" Before promptly continuing to distract her girlfriend. "How about instead of chemistry… You work on an assignment with me for glee?"

"You do remember that glee club is over after this year, right?" Quinn said quietly, her eyes closed involuntarily.

Rachel stood up, walking around the chair and sitting on Quinn's lap instead. "I know," she said, "but I'm feeling inspired to perform after what we all did for Mr. Schue."

* * *

"_Mr. Schuester," Rachel called out to her teacher who was standing in a rather compromising position with Miss Pillsbury. "Can you please come to the auditorium?"_

"_Sure," Mr. Schue replied._

_Rachel turned and began walking back down the hallway and towards the auditorium as well. It had only been a few days since Regionals and the abysmal last place finish of New Directions. The glee kids had been sad, yes – but there was a great deal of time spent at the Berrys' house to make up for whatever time was lost in the choir room. It was during one of their wholly unnecessarily highly-populated 'babysitting' sessions a couple days before when they had come up with the idea of performing a song for Mr. Schuester. But the song had turned into more than just a 'thank you' to Mr. Schue for everything he had accomplished with them over the past school year – it had become something on an anthem for the group, and they couldn't wait to perform for him._

_Rachel and Mr. Schuester were walking side by side down the hall when he finally spoke up. "How are you dealing with everything at home?" he asked._

"_You mean with Colby?" Rachel questioned. Will nodded his head. "It's actually really great. It most certainly doesn't hurt that I have an incredibly large support system." _

_She smiled over at him, and he looked contemplative for a moment before asking, "Have you talked to Miss Corcoran since Saturday?"_

_Rachel twisted her lips and lowered her eyebrows before responding. "No." Her voice was soft. "But that's ok. At this point, I feel like we're both adults. When our lives are meant to converge again, they will. Until then, I couldn't be happier." And the smile that blossomed on her face left no room for doubt in Will's mind._

_They reached the auditorium, and Rachel directed Mr. Schue to a seat in the audience before climbing on stage. The entire group was standing in a large semi-circle, waiting._

"_So, we have something we need to say to you," Rachel began._

_A solemn silence descended upon the group before Matt spoke. "In the beginning of this year, I was just another football player."_

"_I had a stutter," Tina said._

"_I was a closeted diva," Mercedes added. Kurt rolled his eyes playfully._

_Mike cleared his throat. "I was afraid to dance outside my room."_

"_I hated everyone in this club," Santana said._

_Brittany reached out and grabbed Santana's hand. "I used to think that sex wasn't dating."_

"_I wasn't honest about who I was," Kurt said, his voice heavy with the weight of unshed tears._

_Puck looked sheepish as he said, "I was tossing kids into dumpsters."_

_Artie looked over at Tina with a shy smile on his face. "I had never kissed a girl before."_

"_I uhh… I didn't have a father," Finn said. A tear escaped from the corner of Mr. Schuester's eye as he was overcome with emotion. "Someone I could look up to, model myself after."_

_Quinn's voice was strong as she said, "I could barely stand to look at myself in the mirror." She reached out and placed her hand around Rachel's waist._

"_I was a child," Rachel said last. "And now I have one of my own…" The mood was getting heavy, and Rachel knew that this was meant to be a moment of celebration. "We don't care what the judges say," she said with a smile on her face and her voice proud and strong. "We won. Because we had you as a teacher. Because over the course of the past nine months, we've become a family. Because we all – in our own ways – learned how to love. And glee club will never truly end because… __**We**__ are glee club." Mr. Schuester was crying fully now, but his tears were accompanied by a smile. "And we put this song together for you, for us. Because we're not going anywhere."_

_Everyone ran offstage, leaving Finn and Rachel alone. Soon, music filled the auditorium and the performance began. By the end, everyone was onstage – pumping their fists and singing out with their hearts and putting their all into their performance._

"_For every time  
That they want to count you out,  
Use your voice  
Every single time you open up your mouth._

"_Sing it for the boys,  
Sing it for the girls,  
Every time that you lose it sing it for the world!  
Sing it from the heart,  
Sing it til you're nuts,  
Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts!  
Sing it for the deaf,  
Sing it for the blind,  
Sing about everyone that you left behind!  
Sing it for the world,  
Sing it for the world!"_

_Will knew that he would fight for these kids – because they had shown strength and spirit through the torment and degradation that they had been subjected to over the last year. And this simply couldn't be the end._

"_You've got to make a choice,  
If the music drowns you out!  
And raise your voice,  
Every single time they try and shut your mouth!"_

_Sue stood in the back of the auditorium with her hands clasped behind her back as the final notes rang out, as the kids onstage cheered for each other and embraced and cried together. She stood back and watched as Will stood up from his seat and clapped for his kids. Her mind went back to that judges' room – the deliberation that had literally almost driven her nuts and had caused her to question herself and her beliefs more than ever before in her life. And yes, she had succeeded in crushing the glee club. But as she had watched the mouthbreathers perform, she had felt something stirring deep in her chest somewhere – and it wasn't the thrill of success or joy at seeing Will crying; it was a feeling of shame and loss._

_Turning on her heel, Sue stormed out of the auditorium. She had to talk to Figgins._

* * *

"_Do you hear me? I'm talking to you – across the water, across the deep… blue… ocean! Under the open sky, oh my – baby, I'm tryin'…" _Rachel trailed off, fluttering her eyelashes expectantly at Quinn. When Quinn just sat there on the foot of her bed with one eyebrow cocked dangerously high, Rachel huffed indignantly and placed her hands on her hips. "Quinn!" she exclaimed dramatically. "You missed your entrance!"

Quinn shook her head, extending her legs off of Rachel's bed and jumping down onto the floor. "We can't do that song, baby."

"And why not?" Rachel demanded. "Your voice is so _perfectly_ suited for Colbie's part, I can hardly stand it!"

"Because," Quinn responded, moving forward to stand directly in front of her pouting girlfriend, "it's what everyone would expect." Rachel's mouth dropped open. Had she just been called _unoriginal?_ "I'm sure there's another great duet out there for us to sing. It's just a matter of finding it."

Rachel took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and resting her head gently under her girlfriend's chin. "I suppose you're right," Rachel said. They swayed together on the spot. A few moments of peacefulness passed between them before Rachel suddenly jumped back. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I've got it!"

Quinn laughed and fell back onto Rachel's bed while the other girl ran excitedly over to her computer. "Dare I even ask?"

"Don't worry, you'll love it!" Rachel replied over her shoulder.

"Like I have a choice," Quinn said softly. But there was no bitterness in her voice – just acceptance. Because she knew that whatever Rachel had planned would be lovely. And it was only one duet in the story of the rest of their lives. And the story so far was looking absolutely _brilliant_.

_

* * *

The day after the kids had performed for Mr. Schue, he found himself standing alone in the choir room, a box at his feet. He placed one final plaque inside before picking it up and walking across the room to the piano. To his dismay and utter annoyance, Sue strolled in as if she owned the place._

"_It's as barren as me in here, Will," she said. "Movin' on to greener pastures?" _

_Will sighed. "Did you just come to gloat, Sue?" he questioned. He tried to remind himself not to stoop down to her level, not to give in to her taunting and vicious remarks._

"_Mostly," she replied with a smirk on her lips._

"_Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. I should shake your hand," he said. He sounded defeated. But he was defeated – utterly so._

"_Not unless you've got some hand sanitizer," Sue said. "I've seen that car you drive, I don't wanna catch 'poor'."_

_He had had enough. Spinning around, he said, "Explain something to me. Maybe we weren't good enough yet to beat Vocal Adrenaline, fine. But we were so much better than Aural Intensity."_

"_Oh William," Sue started. "I can't reveal how the voting went down. That would betray my sacred oath as a judge or something. The results simply showed the other clubs to be more deserving. All I can say is casting my vote was easy – it reflected exactly how I felt in my heart about which team should win." And it had. Sue thought back to that moment and how easy it had been to place those pink-shirt wearing sissies with their bald-headed ignoramuses and pink-haired diva stars in a definitive last place finish and those pompous showboating stupidly named kids as the runners-up. It had made sense that Will's club should finish first. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were from __**her **__school or that the other judges had gone so far as to say that New Directions had the same spirit and determination as Sue herself._

"_Well, Sue, congratulations. You win. I lose. The kids lose."_

_Sue mentally steeled herself for the vile words that were about to come out of her mouth. "I know you think I'm heartless, Will. And you may have a point. I spend large segments of each day picturing you choking on food. And I know that you think I'm a bad person because I remain unmoved by your nattering of trite platitudes to your ill-shapen students about how the human condition can be improved by - yes! – singing about it. And I've proven that I can wipe you and your glee club off the face of this earth." _

_Here, Sue paused. For dramatic effect, of course – not because she was feeling emotional or anything. "But what kind of a world would that be, Will? A world where I couldn't constantly ridicule your hair? And you know what, Will? Sue Sylvester's not sure she wants to live in that kind of world. So I had a little talk with Figgins." _

_Will looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes – and Sue had to suppress the urge to grab that glimmer and crush it between her clenched fists. "We have another year?" he asked, the disgusting tone of expectancy dripping from every word._

"_You're a good teacher, Will." She wanted to throw up. "And I don't like you so much. But I admire you and the work you're doing with your kids." Gag. "I really do." She stuck her hand across the piano between them to shake Will's hand. He accepted and she added, "I relish the thought of another full year of constantly besting you." This was her only motivation – really._

_And then Will started saying some sappy sweet things to her, and Sue could think of nothing but the fact that he was still touching her. She was seriously going to catch 'poor'. Or barf. Or both. Finally, he let go, and she made a hasty escape._

_Left alone in the choir room, Will smiled down at the boxes he had been packing. He took a moment – in which he cheered and jumped up in the air, pumping his fist for emphasis – before he began unpacking the boxes. "Another year," he muttered happily to himself under his breath._

* * *

The glee kids slowly filtered into the choir room. It was their last scheduled 'rehearsal' of the year. When Mr. Schuester had originally set up this practice weeks before, he had assumed that they would be using this time to talk about summer assignments or even plans for the next school year. He hadn't expected to have _this_ news to tell the kids.

"Mr. Schue?" Rachel questioned, raising her hand in the air. "Would it be alright if Quinn and I performed a duet today?"

Will smiled. "Absolutely, Rachel. But first," he clapped his hands together, "I have something to tell you all."

When Mr. Schue clapped his hands, the majority of the glee club was immediately confused. It was a gesture that he did often (like, _all_ _the time_), but it was one that they had begun to associate with productivity and happier times – not the last meeting of glee club _ever_. And his smile was almost unnerving. So everyone sat quietly (including a fidgety Rachel) and waited to hear what it was Mr. Schue had to say.

Finally, he exclaimed, "We've got another year!" There was relative silence as the news sunk in. "Come on, we've got another year!" he yelled, even more enthusiastically than before.

Rachel bounded to the front of the classroom. "Are you serious?" she yelled. He nodded, and she threw her arms around his neck before immediately turning back to her celebrating teammates. "Ok everyone, I think the performance Quinn and I had planned is now absolutely _perfect_ – there's no better way to celebrate the resurrection of _glee club_ than with a great performance!"

A couple people rolled their eyes (Mercedes and Kurt), but everyone else was largely receptive to Rachel's eagerness to perform. No one (particularly Puck and Santana) relished the thought of admitting that the loss of glee club was utterly _depressing_ – and now that they didn't have to deal with that, they could literally put up with Rachel's demands for another year without complaint.

Quinn grinned and stepped forward, smoothing out her already perfectly smooth dress. Rachel grinned and skipped over to the piano where Brad was sitting, the sheet music to their song already open in front of him. She leaned across the piano and winked salaciously at Quinn before nodding at Brad to start.

The music filled the choir room, and the glee kids began clapping along and dancing in their chairs as the girls performed. Rachel's voice – powerful and smooth – filled the air first.

"_I'm riding in your car,  
You turn on the radio.  
You're pulling me close,  
I just say no.  
I say I don't like it,  
But you know I'm a liar."_

Quinn leaned across the piano towards Rachel and they sang together.

"_Cuz when we kiss?  
Ohhh, fire!"_

Quinn took over amidst cheers from the other glee kids. She and Rachel danced together as if they had been doing it all their lives. Maybe they had.

"_Late at night,  
Ohh, you're taking me home.  
You say you wanna stay,  
I say I wanna be alone.  
I say I don't love you,  
But you know I'm a liar!"_

Their voices harmonized perfectly. But wasn't it always meant to be?

"_Cuz when we kiss?  
Ohhh, fire!"_

As Rachel and Quinn continued to sing to each other, the rest of the glee club continued smiling and clapping along and dancing in their seats, completely enthralled with the performance.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest. "So freaking _charming_," she muttered.

Brittany – who had been leaning her head against Santana's shoulder – looked up at the feisty girl. "You know they're hot together."

Santana huffed, turning to look at her girlfriend – who was staring at her with doe-eyed innocence. She spoke the truth. "_Fine_," she replied. "They're hot. Let's just not tell them that."

Brittany smiled contently and leaned her head back down. "Too late!" Brittany giggled while Santana sighed. A few moments passed as the performance continued, and then Brittany spoke up again. "For some reason, I feel like this would be even better if Rachel and Quinn were wearing roller skates."

"I totally get where you're coming from," Santana agreed with her girlfriend. And then Santana, with a small smile on her lips, leaned over and kissed Brittany's head lovingly.

"_You had a hold on me right from the start,  
A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart.  
My nerves all jumping, acting like a fool.  
Your kisses they burn,  
But my heart stays cool._

"_Fire!" _


	50. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

_A/N: Hello. This is officially 'The End'. Thank you for coming along for this crazy ride._

_I hope that – at some point while reading this final chapter – a smile crosses your face. :-) That would make my day. I really do hope you enjoy this. _

_With love and much appreciation for you all…_

**If the Roles Were Reversed**

**Epilogue**

"I can't believe we're graduating in three days," Mike said. He moved his entire body as he violently smashed his thumbs over the controller.

"I know, right?" Matt added as he blew Mike's character up onscreen. "Ha!" he exclaimed in Mike's face.

Mike sighed and dramatically made his body limp, falling back on the couch. "What time is it?" he questioned from the cushions.

Matt paused the game and flipped open his cell phone. "Close enough. We need to leave now or else Rachel will flip out on us for being half a minute late or something." He stood up and turned off the game console and television, moving to look at his best friend. "Come on, I beat you at this game every time. Quit moping." He playfully kicked Mike's shoe.

"No," Mike said, sitting up. "It's just, you know, this is it. 'The End' and all that. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it."

"At least we're all graduating together," Matt shrugged. He blinked rapidly, trying to play off the emotions he was feeling at the thought of leaving McKinley behind.

Mike stood up and gave his friend a shoulder hug. "You're right," he said with a grin. "But it is kind of funny how all twelve of us original New Directions members are in the same grade, you know?"

"Yeah," Matt laughed as he walked towards his front door, Mike trailing closely behind. "Funny how things work out like that. Almost like it was, I don't know, _scripted_ or something."

* * *

"I propose that we mash up every single song we have ever performed over the past three years for our final 'goodbye' performance at graduation on Friday," Rachel said in a rush.

A sizeable whiteboard was on a stand in the front of her living room, and she was writing (in pink) her idea in large, bubbly letters. Around her, people immediately started protesting.

"That's just _insane_, girl," Mercedes snapped her fingers and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Kurt – who was sitting next to Mercedes on the Berrys' couch with one knee crossed over the other nodded his head vigorously in agreement with the diva at his side. "_Completely_ insane. That will never do."

Mike and Matt just looked at each other with raised eyebrows as they shared the piano bench. "Do you think she's finally lost it?" Mike attempted to whisper to Matt. Rachel heard anyway ("I swear," Santana had once complained to Quinn, "that girl has hearing like a goddamn _bat_ or something!") and shot a glare in their direction.

Puck just shook his head as he strummed a few notes on his guitar in the doorway.

Quinn waltzed into the living room like a cool breeze with her skirt fluttering lightly as she moved, instantly distracting Rachel. A smile spread across Rachel's lips at the sight of her girlfriend, but it was soon wiped off her face as Quinn said, "Sweetie, that's completely implausible."

Tina spoke up from Artie's lap. "It would be fun, Rach, but maybe we should think of other ideas for graduation. We only have the stage for ten minutes, anyway."

Santana, Brittany, and Finn completely ignored the conversation as they played with Colby in the center of the floor. The tiny girl's giggles momentarily distracted Rachel, and she smiled down at her darling daughter. "You're right," Rachel acquiesced. "You're all right." With effort, she pulled her eyes away from Colby – her curly brown hair and her dimples and her adorable infant-sized argyle sweater – and turned to her whiteboard, erasing the words she had previously written. "Ok," she said. "Back to square one."

"We should do _Hate on Me_," Mercedes said. "I'll be featured heavily, and it kind of represents the crap everyone else put us through for being in glee club."

People agreed that the song was good, but not the _concept_. "It's graduation," Quinn said. "We'll probably never see most of the other kids in our class again. Let's not leave on a note of bitterness."

"Yeah," Finn agreed from the floor where he was holding Colby up above his head like an airplane. "I agree with Quinn."

Brittany raised her hand.

"Yes, Brittany?"

"We could all sway in the background while Mr. Schue sings _Bust a Move_ and break dances on the stage."

"NO!" everyone in the room chorused.

"_My Life Would Suck Without You?_" Tina suggested. When there were no immediate objections, Rachel wrote the song on the blank board.

"We could do a funk number," Artie suggested. Rachel cocked an eyebrow but wisely kept her mouth shut. Artie had been suggesting they do a funk number every few weeks for the past couple years. Tina just patted him on the shoulder and sympathetically shook her head. He nodded solemnly, accepting the fate of the funk number in his imagination.

"I personally think a reprise of _Time Warp _would be lovely," Kurt said with a flourish of his wrist.

"I don't wanna wear a wig to graduation," Brittany mumbled from the floor. Santana nodded her agreement while playing with Colby and some of the child's toys, making '_vroom vroom_' noises and the like.

"_Dog Days are Over_ by Florence and the Machine could be fun," Matt said. "It's one of my favorite songs." Rachel wrote it on the board.

"You know," Rachel said, "I quite like what Kurt said about reprising old songs." Several people began to open their mouths to speak – probably to tell her, _yet again_, that they weren't willing to mashup dozens of songs into one – but Rachel held her hand up. "No, hear me out. Do you guys remember sophomore year when…"

Five minutes later, everyone was smiling brightly and giving each other hugs and high-fives.

"So that's half of our performance," Puck said. "Now what about the other half?"

Quinn's eyes lit up as she stood to face her friends. "I think I have an idea for a really nice, classy song for us to sing. We need something to balance out the craziness of our second song anyway…"

As everyone left Rachel's – to head to the auditorium to share their ideas with Mr. Schuester and to rehearse – they had bright, beaming smiles on their faces. T_his is going to be amazing, _Rachel thought as she buckled Colby into her 'big girl' car seat and climbed into the front of her car. Quinn reached across the console and laced their fingers together.

"I'm proud of you," Quinn whispered.

Rachel laughed joyfully before leaning over and kissing Quinn, one hand cupped around her neck to hold her in place (not that she was going anywhere). "Trust me, baby – the feeling is mutual."

* * *

Mr. Schuester sat at his director's desk in the auditorium seating while he watched his kids perform the song that they had been rehearsing thus far that afternoon. Colby was sitting next to him, raptly staring at the twelve people sitting on stools onstage and singing their hearts out. They were people who the little girl had literally grown up with – they were the kids who babysat her and cheered loudly when Rachel and Quinn showed them all that she could walk, they were the kids who protected her and loved her. These were the memories that her young mind probably wouldn't remember in a few years' time – but the kids on stage would always be part of Colby's life, no matter what.

As the final words faded out into the far recesses of the auditorium, Mr. Schuester stood up and clapped for the New Directions seniors. Colby bounced out of her seat and jumped up and down as she clapped and giggled as well. Mr. Schue bent down and picked her up so she could see better.

Rachel stepped down from her stool and walked to the edge of the stage with her hands on her hips. "How was that, baby girl?" she called out to Colby – who was still clapping in Will's arms.

"Good, mama!" the girl called back. Rachel's smile widened impossibly. The girls onstage '_ahhh_'d (including Santana who hastily attempted to cover it up with a cough).

"Ok guys," Mr. Schuester called out. "Let's hear your second number!"

Rachel turned around and glanced at her friends behind her momentarily. Their wide-eyed silence told her that _she_ would be speaking on everyone else's behalf. She turned back out to the audience and said, "Actually, Mr. Schue, we want our second number to be a surprise. For everyone. Including you. So, if you don't mind…"

Mr. Schuester narrowed his eyes suspiciously. But then he thought about the past three years – the heart and strength and spirit these kids had displayed, their love and support for each other, their perseverance against all odds (including devious schemes from players such as Sue Sylvester, Jesse St. James, Bryan Ryan; and the hardships they had endured as individuals – Rachel still had the slightest of limps) – and he realized that he could trust them to perform _one_ number after all this time.

"Sure, guys. Rach, is it ok if I take Colby for ice cream?" He directed his question more at Colby than Rachel, but Rachel gave her assent and they left the auditorium hand in hand with Colby wobbling along at Will's side.

"Ok guys," Rachel said, turning around and bouncing excitedly on the spot. "Let's do this!"

* * *

Later that night, Rachel sat on the edge of Colby's tiny bed as she tucked the sheets up under her chin. "Good night, baby girl," Rachel whispered as she leaned down and kissed her soft forehead gently.

"Night, mama," Colby yawned tiredly. "Song?"

Rachel grinned lovingly. "Of course," she replied before beginning to croon familiar words to her tired daughter.

"_Stars shining bright above you,  
Night breezes seem to whisper, 'I love you'.  
Birds singing in the sycamore tree,  
'Dream a little dream of me'.  
Say 'nighty-night' and kiss me.  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.  
While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me."_

The door creaked open and Rachel looked up into Quinn's face, partially hidden by shadows. She extended her hand, and Quinn moved forward and wrapped the offered hand up in both of her own. Rachel continued to sing to Colby – whose eyes had drifted shut long ago.

"_Stars fading, but I linger on, dear.  
Still craving your kiss, I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear.  
Just saying this: 'Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you'.  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.  
But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me."_

Quinn watched Rachel sing. Her heart fluttered as the young woman who had captivated her years ago poured all of her love and care for her child into every lyric of the song. And she watched Colby slumber. She couldn't help the cheesy grin and the twinkle that was undoubtedly shining from her eyes as she stared at the little girl who she considered her own. Along with the two men who were downstairs watching the news, they were a family.

Rachel stood when she knew with certainty that Colby was peacefully resting. Her hand still connecting her to Quinn, she pulled them both out of the room and into the hallway. Before long, they were in their bedroom and lying down together on the bedspread. Quinn's front was pressed tightly against Rachel's back with her arms wrapped protectively around the tiny brunette. Quinn's eyes closed as she breathed in deeply, savoring the sweet scent of Rachel's hair and remembering a time – years ago, now – when she had felt the first inklings of what it meant to be _falling in love._

_"Wow. Your hair smells __really __good," Quinn murmured against Rachel's hair as she softly held the crying girl. Rachel looked at her like she was crazy, to which Quinn replied, "What? It does." And then Rachel giggled and Quinn smiled, curiously wondering if __**this**__ was maybe what it felt like to begin falling in love with someone…_

"I think I'm going to do it," Rachel said suddenly, startling Quinn out of her memories.

Quinn's mind immediately went to a wicked place as she asked, "You're going to do _what_ exactly?"

But Rachel – her thoughts on a _completely_ different track – didn't catch the playfulness in Quinn's tone. Instead, she reached forward and opened the drawer of her bedside table that she had been eyeing for the past few minutes. She stuck her hand inside and pulled out the note that had made its way into her possession a long time ago – it now lay flat in her hands from the many times she had opened it up to read it. "I'm going to call my mother," she whispered. But, despite her quiet tone, Quinn heard.

"Are you sure?" Quinn asked. She sat up and leaned over Rachel who was now lying on her back and staring at the words on the paper.

After a few moments, Rachel shakily lowered the letter to her chest and stared up into Quinn's hazel eyes. "You're the most beautiful person I know, Quinn, and I've got to be the luckiest person on earth to be able to call you _mine_." The words left Rachel's lips in a reverent, loving tone that had Quinn quickly leaning down and pressing their lips together hungrily.

After several minutes of passionate kissing, Quinn pulled back and rested her forehead against Rachel's. "You spoil me, you know." She kissed the side of Rachel's face, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. "You make me feel beautiful and special and as if the rest of the world is waiting at my fingertips." Their lips crashed together again and their moans mixed together deliciously. "If you want to call your mom, I promise to be right here next to you when you do it."

Rachel smiled and exhaled against Quinn's lips. "Let's get it over with then, shall we?"

It was easy enough for Rachel to place the note back on her bedside table. And it was relatively simple to pick up her phone. Even dialing Shelby Corcoran's number was uncomplicated – Rachel had memorized it months ago. But when it came to pressing the tiny green 'call' button, Rachel was at a loss. Quinn was still lying with her body pressed firmly – lovingly – against Rachel's when the brunette turned to her girlfriend with a pleading look in her eyes. And it was easy for Quinn to kiss her lovingly on the lips and remove the phone from Rachel's hand, hitting the necessary button and moving the cell phone to Rachel's ear.

There were only a couple of rings before Quinn heard Rachel say, "Hello? Shelby? This is Rachel…"

And then there was nothing Quinn could do except wait and prepare herself to catch Rachel if the girl ever truly needed to be caught.

* * *

Shelby rinsed the soap from her hands while she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were slightly rosy, her eyes were shining, and she was smiling like she hadn't smiled in years.

She reached over and pulled down a couple paper towels to dry her hands, and she left the bathroom with her chin held high. When she walked into the proper room, Shelby had the briefest feeling of déjà vu – of another place, another time, another life.

Walking over to the bedside, she took a seat and immediately took Holly's hand in her own. "It's lovely to see you," she said with sincerity.

Holly just smiled back. "This day has been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

Shelby bit her lip as she attempted to hold back the happy tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. She nodded as she squeezed the fingers that her hand was wrapped around. "Yes," she whispered, her voice overflowing with emotion. "It has been." Shelby took a deep breath before she added, "Rachel called me last night."

Holly's attention was immediately sparked. "Did she?" she questioned, her tone even but her lips turning upwards ever so slightly.

"She did. Kind of ironic that you and I met because of her and, well, here we are." Holly nodded at Shelby to continue, and this time _she_ was the one reassuringly squeezing the hand of the other. "We didn't talk overly long, but she told me so many things." By now, the tears she had previously attempted to hold back were flowing precariously down her cheeks. "She told me that she's happy; that she and Quinn are still a couple, that Colby is the most incredible little child, that Quinn's portfolio was accepted at NYU's Tisch School of the arts, and that Rachel was accepted to _Julliard_ –" Shelby's voice broke as she was overcome with emotion. "Despite the difficult obstacles in her life, she's _doing it_."

"Doing what?" Holly gently asked. She knew the answer. But Shelby needed to say it.

Shelby looked up from their entwined hands. "Making her dreams come true. But then," Shelby sniffled, "I guess if there was _ever_ a young woman – a young _mother_ – who could handle everything that she's been through and _still_ come out on top, chasing after her dreams with a vengeance and _catching them_… Well, I haven't spent a lot of time with her personally, but I _know_ that she's that girl."

Holly's smiling lips parted as she was about to respond, but the nurse chose that moment to walk in. "Good afternoon, ladies," she said sweetly.

Greetings were exchanged and in only a matter of moments, Holly was giggling at the smooth, cold sensation of the gel on her stomach. The nurse pointed out a few characteristics on the screen as Shelby and Holly stared with rapt attention. As the nurse began to clean Holly's tummy, she casually asked, "Would you like to know the sex?"

Holly looked to Shelby – this was _her_ child, after all. The choice had always been hers to make. Shelby continued to stare at the monitor; she hadn't taken her eyes off of it since the image became still, frozen in time. She finally turned to look at their nurse, nodding her head vigorously. "Yes, please."

The nurse smiled kindly before saying, "You're going to have a baby boy."

Tears of joy _again_ found their way down Shelby's cheeks as she jumped up and pulled the nurse into a firm hug as she was walking out of the room. And when she was alone with Holly again – Holly, her guardian angel, she was _sure_ of it – Shelby pulled her to her chest and wrapped her arms around her surrogate, her friend. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you _so much_."

Holly rubbed her hands up and down Shelby's back as the other woman cried heavily into her shoulder. "Oh honey," she said. "You never even had to ask."

* * *

"I really don't understand the concept of _pomp and circumstance_ for any event that doesn't involve Sue Sylvester," Sue Sylvester grumbled as she took her place in the stands before McKinley High's graduation ceremony for the Class of 2012.

"Oh Sue," Principal Figgins huffed out. He didn't say anything else. There really wasn't much else to be said.

* * *

A few seats down, Marcus and Brendon sat with Colby nestled lovingly between them. Brendon fiddled nervously with the tripod for their video camera. "Ohh," he breathed out. "I think I forgot the backup battery! What if this one dies?"

Marcus chuckled and reached into his jacket pocket, extracting the fully-charged spare battery. "No worries, dear. I've got you covered."

Brendon looked up from the camera stand and to the battery that was lying in Marcus's open hand. He laughed loudly before wrapping his own hand around his husband's. "What would I do without you?" he tenderly asked. Marcus didn't reply – but only because it was a non-issue.

* * *

"I'm so excited for the kids," Will whispered to Emma. "It's so great that they're finally getting to graduate. And I can't wait for this performance! You're going to be moved, I promise."

Miss Pillsbury giggled and blushed and said, "I'm sure it will be magical." She placed her hand on the edge of the bleachers they were sitting on between herself and Will. He looked down when he noticed her slight movement and smiled before slowly-lightly-carefully placing his own hand on top of hers.

* * *

The gymnasium echoed with the sounds of family and friends cheering for their loved ones as the WMHS seniors walked inside in pairs. Quinn and Rachel were standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, as they proceeded to the rows of chairs set up in front of a stage. The band was off to one side of the large room, and Rachel shuddered as one of the woodwinds squeaked unceremoniously.

"Are you nervous?" Quinn whispered in Rachel's ear as they waved at their family.

Rachel posed momentarily for a picture with her arm wrapped around her girlfriend's waist before continuing her forward progression. "For what?" she asked. "For the performance?"

Quinn shook her head. "No. For life."

Quickly, Rachel turned her head to look up at Quinn. The expression on her face was one filled with so much love that Quinn thought she could quite easily melt into a puddle of Quinn sauce at any second. "I'm absolutely not nervous for life, Quinn, because you're going to be there with me every step of the way. Together, we can do anything."

They took their seats – which was good for Quinn, because her legs were jelly-like. The other ten members of the Original New Directions were in the same row, and they all exchanged waves and thumbs-up's as Principal Figgins took the stage to deliver a speech.

Before long, he was introducing the glee club. "The New Directions is our glee club here at McKinley. For the past two years, they have been selected to compete at the National Show Choir competition. Last year, they placed 5th in the country; and this coming June, they will be competing yet again. We wish them the best of luck!" There were scatterings of applause from the audience as Principal Figgins invited the group up onto the stage to perform. There were already twelve stools set up for them in a semi-circle behind the podium.

"Ok guys," Rachel whispered down the row as they stood up. "It's showtime!"

* * *

Rachel stepped up to the microphone – she had been their leader from day one, and they weren't about to change that on _this_ day, their last day performing together for such an audience.

"Good afternoon," she spoke into the microphone softly, sweetly. "We'll be performing two songs for you all today. And, if you know me at all, you know I like to talk. But I think that this first song, at least, will say everything that I could never properly express with words."

She stood back and cued the sound guy off to the side. Their background track started to play as she walked over to her stool. Tina began to sing over the supporting background vocals of her friends, her voice lifting beautifully to the rafters.

"_You with the sad eyes,  
Don't be discouraged.  
Oh, I realize  
It's hard to take courage.  
In a world full of people,  
You can lose sight of it all  
And the darkness inside you  
Can make you fell so small."_

Everyone shared smiles around the semi-circle as they continued to lift their voices as one, harmonizing and passing the lead from voice to voice, talent to talent.

"_Show me a smile then,  
Don't be unhappy, can't remember  
When I last saw you laughing.  
If this world makes you crazy,  
And you've taken all you can bear,  
You call me up  
Because you know I'll be there._"

Mr. Schuester wiped a tear from his eye. Sue Sylvester spotted him doing it, and she sneered to cover up the painful grimace she had experienced at the nauseating sight.

"_And I'll see your true colors  
Shining through.  
I see your true colors,  
And that's why I love you.  
So don't be afraid to let them show,  
Your true colors,  
True colors are beautiful,  
Like a rainbow._"

The final notes faded into nothingness as the twelve kids on stage received a standing ovation. Rachel took a moment to play the bashful card, ducking her head to her chest as she approached the podium again. "Thank you," she said, and a hush finally fell over the audience. "Our next song – and our final performance as the seniors of New Directions – is one that some of you –" she stared blatantly at her classmates "– may fondly recall. Others of you, however –" she allowed her eyes to flicker towards Coach Sylvester for a moment "– may not be so pleased." Sue narrowed her eyes, but Rachel continued before anything else could be said. She turned to the sound man and yelled, "Hit it!"

"_Get up on this!_" the kids chorused together as they threw off their caps and their gowns to reveal bright blue t-shirts and denim skirts and jeans, fanny packs (in Kurt's case) and headbands and black Converses. Sue's jaw immediately dropped in _horror_.

"_Oooh, baby, baby.  
Baby, baby.  
Oooh, baby, baby.  
Baby, baby._"

Initially, Mr. Schuester had been shocked and appalled at their song choice – especially considering the fact that they had gotten into _so much trouble_ for this song _the first time_ around. But then all he could focus on were the smiles on their faces and the fun they seemed to be having. So he decided to let it all go – because these were his kids, and he would forever be proud of them.

"_Salt and Pepa's here, and we're in effect,  
Want you to push it, babe,  
Coolin' by day then at night working up a sweat.  
C'mon girls, let's go show the guys that we know,  
How to become number one in a hot party show.  
Now push it!_"

Rachel's voice was fun and spunky and when Quinn danced with her, her heart soared like never before. This girl was her future.

"_Yo, yo, yo, yo, baby-pop,  
Yeah, you come here, gimme a kiss.  
Better make it fast or else I'm gonna get pissed.  
Can't you hear the music's pumpin' hard like I wish you would?  
Now push it!_"

Finn was as awkward as ever.

"_Push it good.  
Push it real good!  
Push it good.  
P-push it real good!_"

The group came together for one massive, final hip thrust to celebrate their graduation (because, well, it would be _entirely_ unreasonable to expel them at this point anyway).

"_Ahhhhh, push it!_"

* * *

_**The End**_


End file.
